


You Want It Darker

by merlypops



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Fingering, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Awkwardness, Best Friends, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Childhood Friends, Deepthroating, Depression, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Friendship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add more as I go..., Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Injury, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Love/Hate, M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Making Out, Making Up, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Parties, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Relationships, Praise Kink, Rimming, Romance, Royalty, Self-Hatred, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Smut, Song Lyrics, Sorcerers, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Survivor Guilt, Temporary Character Death, Threats of Violence, Tournaments, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-10-25 16:03:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 216,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17728382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlypops/pseuds/merlypops
Summary: There's a lover in the story but the story's still the same.There's a lullaby for suffering and a paradox to blame,But it's written in the scriptures and it's not some idle claim.You want it darker. We kill the flame.It felt good to know Calum cared about his happiness, even if theywereabout to compete against each other in front of the entire planet. That didn’t mean Ashton’s brief fluttering of warmth was worthless though. It was the little things that mattered most sometimes – like Calum’s dimples creasing his cheeks andnotthe crushing weight of the Elevare – and that was worth holding on to.With Calum by his side, Ashton knew he’d get through this somehow.In war-torn Cerasus, the only way to end the conflict is an ancient tournament rife with danger and magic: the Elevare. When the disgraced Prince Ashton is chosen to represent Claritas, he soon finds that he has a much bigger problem than the four challenges he will need to complete: he's fallen in love with his competitor, Prince Calum of Tenebris, and Calum may well have his own dangerous agenda...Based on "You Want It Darker" by Leonard Cohen.





	1. Prologue: Blood And Ash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maluminspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maluminspace/gifts).



> for the lovely Laura who deserves this more than anything ❤
> 
> Hi everyone! I've been planning this story for a good few months now and I'm so excited to finally start sharing it with you all!  
> Here's the [Pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/katyanker1996/os-you-want-it-darker/) and a [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4juEC7F7pVaqlUxnBcvrZg?fbclid=IwAR3bTXmlhAcLWkdbb-5MO0EmdbO2V9MkW2h_TiJkWb4Lea4TsZbmfAaKSZo&si=UOys-uNtQdyN2nq_dGgVGQ) if you wanted to take a look.  
> I'm so excited for you all to read the rest!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for descriptions of war, violence, injury, and minor-character death(s).

**_We're not done 'til we say it's over._ **

**_We won't fade away._ **

_\- Tomorrow Never Dies, 5 Seconds of Summer_

 

The jets were screaming across the lilac sky, trailing smoke as they fired missiles at each other, trying to knock enemy fighters out of the clouds and into the carnage below.

The roar of artillery fire was deafening to the soldiers fighting down on the Boneflats, sending them flinching instinctively for cover as the last surviving Claritan regiment scrabbled to reform under the heavy fire they were sustaining.

Ashton could barely breathe past the choking smoke as he scraped himself out of the dirt. The deep grazes on his palms were stinging from where he'd thrown himself down to avoid a blast of lightning cast by one of the enemy soldiers and the adrenaline felt like it was boiling his blood in his veins as his magic begged for release.

The soldiers from Tenebris definitely had the upper hand and Ashton’s heart clenched unpleasantly in his chest as he watched one of his comrades crumple beside him, water overflowing from his orifices as he drowned on dry land, eyes bulging and lips parted in panic as he was murdered by one more faceless Tenebran soldier.

Ashton wanted to help him but there was nothing he could do now. He was no medic and his fire magic was ill-suited to healing. The man's limp form was jerking on the parched grass, nothing but the whites of his eyes visible as the water leaked like poison from the corner of his mouth.

Ashton hated water magic more than any other ability, mostly because it was so painfully effective at reducing his own powers to little more than coiling steam.

It was absolutely brutal... but Ashton should have been used to brutal by now. He'd been fighting in this war for well over a year and the carnage was something he saw every day, no matter the mission or the battle.

There was no reason why the death of this one soldier should shake him up so much now, especially when he took into account all of the enemies he had been forced to kill himself.

The man had stopped twitching now and, as he finally stilled, Ashton realised with a jolt that perhaps his best friend Laura would have been able to help save him. She was the best healer he knew but she'd been swallowed up by the battle some time ago and he could only pray that she was safe, wherever she had ended up.

One of the generals nearby was shouting for the troops to pull back, his voice tight and strained as the words sent the panic flaring to life in Ashton’s chest.

The chaos seemed to unfold before his dazed hazel eyes as he stared in horror at the Tenebran fighters making one last desperate push, forcing the Claritans back towards the cliffs where escape would be impossible as their bullets slammed into hastily cast forcefields.

As he watched the grim realisation settling on the faces of the strangers fighting beside him, Ashton knew this was their last stand. The end was near and it didn't matter how desperately they had fought for their lives; for their loved ones; for their great country.

They would still be killed. They would still become just a little more dust covering the hungry ground of the Boneflats.

The war would be lost today and the nation of Claritas would fall... unless Ashton could put his terror and anger to good use, and buy them time for reinforcements to get here. The idea frightened him beyond belief but he was the Crown Prince and his parents had sent him here to set a good example to his people; to save as many souls as possible and turn the tide of the war.

This was Ashton’s _duty_ and his heart-stopping panic didn’t come into the equation now. There was no time for something as human as fear.

His trembling palms left blood streaked on his dirty cheeks as he rubbed his face, trying to calm himself with little success.

The enemy soldiers were pressing closer now, crackling with confidence and power. The air was alive with their abilities: lethal sparks of electricity coiled around knuckles; flames licked menacingly at clawed fingers; choking vines erupted from the baked ground to force the weakened regiment back against the rocks.

The Tenebrans were toying with them now that they were sure victory was a certainty and Ashton’s rage filled him as he burst from the safety of his ranks, his eyes alight with his desperate need to do the right thing as one of the Claritan jets crashed to the ground, streaming fire and twisted metal.

Ashton reached for the flames instinctively, coaxing them over to coil around his outstretched hand as the fireball burnt brighter and hotter. He kept feeding it with his terror and anger, uncaring of how exhausted he was now as he drained himself of energy.

It was the only way to hold the Tenebrans back. No matter how painful, he had to stop them. There was no other option.

“Ash!” a painfully familiar voice shouted warningly and it sounded like Laura, faint enough that she must have been far back in the crowd but had still seen his reckless display of power. “Ash, _no_!”

Ashton couldn’t afford to listen to her now; not when he might finally have found a way to cow the Tenebrans into submission. The fireball was roaring in the air above him, the heat blistering as the Claritan soldiers pushed themselves further back against the cliffs to escape the burn of it.

Only the Crown Prince remained unscathed as he held it aloft, safe in the knowledge that it was impossible for him to harm himself with his own ability; only draining himself of energy and power could hurt him now.

Ashton took a step forwards but, before he could send the ball of flame hurtling down to scatter the Tenebrans, a bullet slammed into the ground near his feet. It kicked up a cloud of dust and that distraction was his downfall. His concentration broke and the weight of the immense fireball was suddenly crushing as his knees weakened under him, his eyes widening in alarm.

The colour drained from his face when he realised he’d gone too far and he swayed suddenly, barely strong enough to hold himself upright as the hungry flames seemed to contract above him, tightening into something unquestionably lethal.

He’d fed it so much of his power that it had grown dangerously volatile and there was no way on all of Cerasus that Ashton could regain control of the fireball now.

There was nowhere for it to go.

His knees hit the ground as the magic in his veins reached boiling point and he felt like he was floating away as the soldiers on both sides seemed to hold their breath, the sudden silence jarring after the constant barrage of machine gun fire and the whine of jet engines.

“I’m sorry,” Ashton breathed as his hands fell to hang limply by his sides, his heart jerking horribly in his chest as the fireball surrounded him for a moment, completely encasing him in flame.

It exploded like a bomb, a wave of fire and pure magic rolling out with the force of a pyroclastic flow. It tore the armies apart and Ashton barely had time to feel the dread rocketing through him at the realisation of what he’d done when he heard a low rumble as the cliffs crumbled apart behind him.

The few survivors were screaming as the boulders crashed down onto the Boneflats, crushing and deadly. Anyone still able was running now, desperate to escape from the rockslide Ashton had caused as he slumped there helplessly on the scorched ground. He didn’t even have the strength to look up as his death approached.

Above the rising booms of the boulders falling around him, he thought he heard Laura calling his name.

After that, Ashton’s awareness became limited to agony and terror, and the burn of his flames licking at the brittle grass around him as his bones snapped like twigs beneath the weight of the rocks.

An indiscernible amount of time passed, broken only by pain and blood, and terrible numbness. The sizzle of forcefields shattered the ringing silence, accompanied by the grunts of soldiers whose abilities gifted them superhuman strength as they hauled the rocks from the broken body of their Crown Prince.

The last thing Ashton remembered beneath the blinding pain was Laura’s frightened face looking down at him, her tear-streaked cheeks smeared with blood and ash, and then -

Everything was gone.


	2. Survivor’s Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm back with the first proper chapter of YWID and I'm so excited/nervous to hear what you all think!  
> Thanks as always to my lovely best friend Laura for the motivation and feedback - this story wouldn't exist without you <3  
> Fingers crossed you'll all enjoy this :)

**_We found our way back home,_ **

**_Let our cuts and bruises heal,_ **

**_While a brand-new war began,_ **

**_One that no one else could feel._ **

_\- Mars, Sleeping At Last_

 

There was no rushing healing.

Ashton had heard those words more times than he cared to admit over the last six months and he hated them with a passion. Whenever he became disheartened with his gruelling physiotherapy or the frustrating absence of his old magic, someone would pipe up in a deliberately sympathetic voice just how _brave_ he was being on this difficult journey.

Privately, Ashton wondered how they could call what he was experiencing a ‘journey’. That sounded too positive; too much like something with an end in sight… and there was no happy ending for him. This was karma, kismet, destiny. This was the hand Fate had dealt him for murdering so many people in a war there had been no business fighting in the first place.

There had been no glory or honour. No greater good.

Just death and horror, and haunting nightmares that refused to stop plaguing him.

Sometimes, Ashton felt like he’d never stopped fighting at all. He still saw the sun-bleached grass of the Boneflats whenever he closed his eyes. He still tasted the smoke and blood whenever he let his guard down.

The magic under his skin was almost gone now, burnt out the day Ashton had foolishly tried to save his regiment by channelling all of his rage and terror into power. He'd regretted it ever since when his good intentions inevitably turned out bad.

His act of unintentionally violent magic had wiped out a dizzying number of soldiers fighting on both sides of the war, the scale of the tragedy so harrowing that a ceasefire had been called while the fighters collected their dead.

The media would have pounced on anyone who committed an atrocity of that magnitude - war or not - but the fact that it was the nation of Claritas’ golden boy only served to make their ghoulish stories so much more popular.

The pictures of Crown Prince Ashton lying broken at the heart of the blast zone would circulate on every comms channel for months, the white grass of the Boneflats stained with blood and charred flesh.

When Ashton had woken up weeks later in the medical bay back at his family’s palatial estate in the capital city of Aureum, the guilt he felt had been almost as suffocating as the hatred radiating from the media. The Prince was only alive because of the quick thinking of his closest friend Laura and she had come under a lot of scrutiny for her actions in choosing to save Ashton over however many other hundreds who had been severely wounded that day.

Ashton would never forgive himself for the suffering she must have inevitably gone through while he was unconscious. Laura had been training to be a healer since she was a child, eager to follow in her parents’ footsteps by serving the royal Irwin family however she could. Ashton had grown up with her and the idea that anyone had been cruel to the eldest Hemmings sibling while he was unable to defend her had caused him almost as much anguish as his injuries did.

Even despite Laura’s best efforts, Ashton had still almost died on that fateful day. After his fiery powers had engulfed him, he had been left weaker than a lamb and the rockslide had been impossible to avoid. It had torn across the Boneflats like a storm and Ashton’s spine had been badly broken during the crush.

Only Laura’s stasis spell had kept him alive long enough for a more powerful healer to be summoned but she’d almost drained herself of energy in the process. There were pictures of the pair lying slumped together on the cracked ground, her hands blistering with burns from the searing heat of the Prince’s skin, his expression vacant and unknowing of the carnage spread out like a gristly flower around him.

Ashton was sure he would never forgive himself for implicating Laura in this mess. All she’d wanted to do was serve her country and keep him safe, and he’d thrown her unceremoniously into the spotlight of a desperate nation who were hungry for anything they could tear apart to smother their own suffering.

A fragile truce had been declared after the ceasefire but it was tenuous at best and no one on either side of the war truly believed that peace would last. There was too much resentment now; too much anger and bitterness for the fighting just to be dismissed, at least without a suitable alternative for the people of each nation to channel their emotions into.

A heavy sigh escaped Ashton as he clung to the parallel bar he’d been provided, glowering balefully at his surroundings as he tried to find the courage to let go of the cold metal. His muscles were already protesting the continued abuse but he forced himself to release his grip as he struggled to take a few steps without the support.

He was exhausted, the sweat beading on his skin as his curls stuck to his forehead and his t-shirt clung to his back but he refused to give up. He just wanted to get out of this damned hospital room but that wouldn’t be possible until the medi-tech had properly taken hold and, with the remaining dregs of his magic swarming beneath his skin like a mass of wasps, that wasn’t likely to be quick.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” a wryly amused voice asked from behind him. Ashton jerked his head up guiltily, his cheeks flaming at the sight of Luke Hemmings leaning casually against the doorframe, his caramel-coloured curls tumbling across his forehead as he watched his childhood best friend curiously.

“No,” Ashton mumbled, straightening his shoulders and trying to pretend that he wasn’t on the point of collapsing right now. “Niall wants me to get up every hour and spend quarter of an hour walking around. I’ll never get back to normal if I don’t do that.” Luke’s blue eyes softened as he sidled towards the older boy, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans as his teeth sank uneasily into his bottom lip. Things had been awkward between them for a while now, long before Ashton had woken up back home after bringing two armies to their knees single-handedly, and the Crown Prince wasn’t a fool, no matter what the media were saying. He knew exactly what had caused his relationship with Luke to take a turn for the worst.

They’d dated for a little while - almost two years ago now, although it felt like a lifetime ago - but they’d been best friends for as long as he could remember. It had always been Ashton and the Hemmings siblings against the world, and that would probably never change, no matter how much water had flooded under that particular proverbial bridge.

Luke and Ashton had broken up over a year ago, back when the older boy and Laura had turned eighteen and been called to fight in the war against the Tenebrans. At sixteen, Luke had had to stay in the relative safety of Claritas and, despite the younger boy’s bitterness at feeling as though he’d been abandoned by them, their split had been amicable enough.

Secretly, Ashton was fairly certain the pair were better-suited to remaining just friends anyway. They’d always got along best platonically and the only reason they’d even tried dating in the first place was that they’d both come out at the same time, and figured that they may as well give things a go together. Their relationship had always been missing something though and it hadn’t taken long for the Crown Prince to realise that no magical ability on all of Cerasus could force romantic love where there wasn’t any.

Ashton had tried so hard and he’d hated himself for feeling like he was letting Luke down, especially when he cared about him so much. He’d almost been glad when he’d been called away to fight because at least that had given him a reason to leave without looking like a coward but, somehow, that had only made him hate himself _more_ because… damnit, Luke was one of his best friends and Ashton loved him - would probably _always_ love him - but not in the right way.

Ashton loved Luke the same way he loved Laura, like a sibling, and anything else felt wrong.

“I swear medi-tech is more exciting than any magic,” the younger boy murmured, his blue eyes softening as he took in the shaky steps the Crown Prince was taking without the help of the bar. “You wouldn’t even be able to stand up if Niall hadn’t been smart enough to come up with that nifty bit of kit. It’s _amazing_.”

The ‘bit of kit’ Luke was referring to was a complicated invention that curved like a flower petal around each damaged vertebrae, strengthening and repairing until all of the physical damage was completely healed. The kit had been designed by Niall Horan, the best healer Claritas had to offer and a friend of the Crown Prince too.

Niall’s exceptional skills were only deepened by his ability to empathise with his patients and understand exactly where they were feeling pain. It was often a harrowing experience for him but he would never have countenanced pursuing a different career path. All Niall ever wanted to do was help people and make them feel as comfortable as he could, and that was why he had happily accepted the challenge of building the medi-tech for Ashton during the long weeks he’d spent in a coma after the final battle.

Niall would never give up on anyone.

Luke was hovering closer now, his fingertips pressing deliberately into his thighs like he was trying to keep from reaching out just in case the older boy wobbled. Ashton was glad when Luke refrained as he struggled back towards the hospital bed he hated so much. Even walking this short distance was easier than it had been the week before and he knew he was physically healing. He just needed to be given the chance.

“I want to go home,” Ashton said softly, before he could think better of the words. It didn’t seem to matter that he was already on his family’s estate, just a ten minute walk from the royal apartments on the top floor of the sprawling complex. He felt about a million miles removed from his normal life and he knew his injuries weren’t the only factor to blame; not when he still saw the Boneflats every time he closed his eyes.

Luke sat down beside him hesitantly, keeping a deliberate space between them although their fingertips brushed where their hands were resting on the blankets. There was no spark when they touched; no electricity… just the comfortable familiarity of a best friend he’d known since childhood.

“You can go home soon, Ash,” Luke murmured, his earnest blue eyes gentle and sad. He glanced around the room helplessly, clearly searching for a subject change and alighting on one after only minimal searching. “Hey, why’s that window boarded up? I’m sure it wasn’t like that yesterday.”

“It wasn’t,” Ashton said dully, his heart sinking in his chest as he started on the stretches Niall had assigned him to work on building up his muscles again. “Someone threw a brick through the window.”

Someone had already been called to fix it and Ashton hated so much that it was a perfect metaphor for the hatred a large number of the population still felt for him after the unimaginable death toll he had caused on the Boneflats. The Crown Prince of Claritas was held in disgrace, either inspiring loathing or terrified awe, and it felt like it would never end.

“It’s okay though, Luke,” the older boy added reassuringly when he saw the shock saturating his friend’s face. “Dad assigned guards to search for who did it.”

“You mean the cameras didn’t catch them?” Luke asked anxiously, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard it went bloodless. Ashton wanted to stop him from hurting himself but he wasn’t sure he was allowed anymore. The younger boy reached to entwine their fingers tightly and Ashton felt a lump rise in his throat as he stared down at the floor, feeling more lost than he ever had.

“They were wearing a mask I think,” he said quietly, shrugging and relishing in the fact that it no longer caused him pain. “At least it didn’t hit me the way they wanted.”

“Your dad should’ve sent Laura to track them down,” Luke joked weakly, still looking shaken up. “She’d yell at someone for even looking at you funny so I dread to think what she’d do to some bastard chucking bricks at you.”

They shared a moment of soft laughter before Ashton’s shoulders slumped as a soft sigh escaped him.

“How _is_ Laura?” he asked quietly, his hand trembling a little in the younger boy’s comforting grip. It was rare for Luke to visit without his older sister being present too and Ashton was determined not to waste the opportunity, even if he _did_ miss her warm demeanour as she tried to cheer him up from the countless slumps he’d found himself in since returning from the war. “She always insists she’s fine but… I don’t believe her. I’ve seen the shitty things people are saying about her on the comms channels. They’re so horrible to her for saving me instead of the others...”

Ashton’s hazel eyes were glassy with tears as his voice trailed away and he shook his head slowly, still in awe of how self-sacrificing she had been in her desperate efforts to keep him alive. Her healing was a lot less precise than Niall’s delicate handiwork since her baptism of fire had very much been in fixing up battle wounds but she’d done such a good job that day, even at the expense of her own health and reputation.

The burns she’d sustained from the Crown Prince’s burning skin had left terrible scarring on her hands, even despite Niall doing what he could to lessen it, and Ashton could tell by the fingerless gloves she often wore that she was self-conscious of the injuries, especially when people viewed them so negatively because of what they symbolised.

Laura didn’t deserve to feel bad for trying to keep her best friend alive. She’d already suffered so much after the countless traumatic injuries she’d healed out on the Boneflats and, now that she was home again, the bad press she constantly received for saving the Crown Prince who had caused such unimaginable devastation was the _last_ thing she needed.

“Laura is doing a lot better than she was,” Luke said after a long, _long_ moment. “She was in a state while you were sleeping but… well, she’s feeling better about things now. Niall sat with her I think; helped her get to the bottom of what she was feeling. He’s a good guy.”

Ashton watched his friend with soft eyes, feeling a little of the tension leak from his aching muscles as he finally received the reassurance he’d been so desperate for. He was glad to hear that Laura really _was_ feeling more positive now, especially when she seemed uninclined to share her problems with Ashton the way she always had done in the past, and he couldn’t deny his relief that her brother and Niall had been there for her during such a difficult time.

As the Crown Prince looked at Luke, he was struck by just how similar the younger boy and his sister appeared. They shared the same blond hair and blue eyes but Luke’s expression was infinitely more unhappy. He always looked sad these days - had done for the last few years if the older boy was being honest with himself - but there was something more pronounced about the misery buried in Luke’s pale face now; something that made it look like he was silently crying out for help.

“Laura’s been trying really hard to act like she doesn’t give a shit what people are saying about her.” The younger boy shrugged, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip again as Ashton stroked his thumb soothingly over his friend’s knuckles. “She doesn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing they can hurt her, y’know? Not when she knows she did the right thing.”

Luke gave his hand a gentle squeeze and Ashton sighed heavily, glancing once more towards the boarded up window and the patch of floor where the shards of broken glass had glittered so menacingly the night before.

“She’s braver than me,” the Crown Prince murmured as he stretched his back out hesitantly, his teeth gritted against the unpleasant ache. Luke tangled his fingers together in his lap when Ashton’s hand slipped from his, watching the older boy with exhaustion and sadness evident on his pale face.

“She’s braver than both of us,” the younger boy muttered but his eyes were intent on Ashton’s face and he seemed to realise that the pain in the Prince’s expression wasn’t just because of his injuries. “Laura doesn’t blame you, Ash. How many times does she have to say that before you believe it’s the truth?” Luke bit his lip suddenly, his face tightening even as his tone became softer. “Maybe when you accept that _you’re_ not to blame for what happened too, yeah?”

“Tell that to the people chucking bricks through my window,” Ashton breathed quite certain that his voice would crack if he spoke any louder. The knot of unshed tears was rising chokingly in his throat now and he swallowed hard against it, his eyes prickling at how badly he was hurting. “I think you’re one of the only people who doesn’t hate me.”

Luke’s face crumpled at the tears spilling down the older boy’s face and he pulled him into a hug unthinkingly, his heart aching when Ashton’s shaking hand fisted in the back of his jumper to keep him close. Luke was trembling when he carded his fingers lightly through the Prince’s honey-coloured curls and it felt so safe to be held in the younger boy’s arms again that, for a moment, Ashton almost forgot anything had ever changed between them at all.

A sudden knock on the door sent the pair of them separating sharply and Niall looked awkward when he entered the room to the sight of Luke straightening his jumper as Ashton flattened his hair clumsily. The healer was quick to paste a sunny smile across his face though and, when the Prince finally looked up at him with tears streaking his cheeks, Niall was kind enough not to comment on it.

“Afternoon, you two,” the older man said, smiling weakly as he ran a pale hand through his tousled brown hair. His gaze flickered unconsciously to Luke’s suddenly-blushing face and Niall’s lips twitched as he refocused on Ashton.

“I want to go home,” the Prince said stubbornly, predictable as always.

“Show me you can walk up and down the stairs alone, and then I’ll let you leave,” Niall said apologetically as he buried his hands in his pockets. “But until then, you’ll have to stay here, I’m afraid.” He took in Ashton’s slight pout and rolled his blue eyes fondly. “You always were a terrible patient, Ash; you know that?”

“I’m the Crown Prince,” he said sulkily, clearly trying to cheer Luke up. “You can’t talk to me that way.”

“Course I can, Irwin,” Niall said with an easy shrug. “You should’ve heard some of the stories Lukey was telling me while you were sleeping. I’ll never be able to take you seriously again.”

Luke’s face split into a broad grin, his warm eyes crinkling as a laugh escaped him, and it wasn’t until that moment that Ashton realised just how sad his friend had looked before Niall’s sudden appearance. He wondered what it meant for a moment before he realised that it had nothing to do with him at all anymore.

He’d upset Luke enough over the last year and Ashton had no intention of making things any harder than they needed to be now. His friend deserved so much better than that.

Niall and Luke were still grinning at each other when the Prince climbed laboriously to his feet. He crossed the suddenly silent room falteringly, grimacing a little although he made it in one piece. He had to lean against the wall for a moment to catch his breath but he remained standing and he was proud of himself for that.

Luke sighed unhappily as he watched his friend. Niall just looked tired.

“Where are you going, Ash?” the younger boy asked heavily as he rose from the bed, standing shoulder to shoulder with the healer.

“The stairs,” Ashton said with another shrug. This one ached a little but he refused to let the slight pain show on his face. “I’m going to climb them on my way out of here.” He squared his jaw, his hazel eyes flashing with determination as he shot the hospital room one last baleful look. “I’ve had enough. I’m going back home.”

*

Tenebris was always cold in winter but this year was particularly bitter.

Calum was shivering as he hunched up in his thick black coat, his eyes watering at the biting wind as he stood immobile in the graveyard. It was Clifford Memorial Day and the gloomy atmosphere that always accompanied the occasion hung heavily in the air, as choking as the smog that coiled poisonously through the twisting streets of Effervo’s more lawless districts; home to the drug laboratories and black markets, right there in the heart of the capital city of Tenebris.

There was a man reading a poem at the front of the shivering crowd, his quavering words lost in the wind, his form appearing shrunken as he stood between the weathered graves of Daryl and Karen Clifford, two influential Tenebran politicians who had been assassinated fourteen years before. They were survived by a single son who was the object of Calum’s attention right now.

Michael had been his best friend for as long as he could remember and Calum would forever be grateful for the older boy’s high status, awarded to him by his deceased parents. Without it, Calum was in no doubt that his father King David of Tenebris would have refused to allow the two to spend any time together at all.

The quivering man was still working his way through the poem but the Prince barely paid him any mind. He was more focused on the heat of Michael’s shoulder where the older boy was leaning against him, heavy and needy, like he badly needed his best friend to lend him strength. Calum reached for Michael’s hand, uncaring of how it might look to the press or the devious politicians gnawing at their heels as the Prince stood at the front of the crowd of mourners.

Michael gripped his hand like a lifeline as the cracks in his armour finally began to show. A tear rolled down his cheek and he squeezed his emerald eyes shut in panic, hating the idea of showing weakness now, especially when the reporters were circling like vultures, so desperate for anything they could make into a story.

Showing emotion in Tenebris was never the smartest idea – unless of course you _wanted_ to be mocked and treated like a child for the foreseeable future – so Calum couldn’t exactly blame his best friend for looking quite so anxious at the prospect of breaking down in front of the cameras broadcasting this grim event for all of the ghoulish Tenebrans across the nation.

“Watch this, Mikey,” he breathed, leaning close enough that his lips brushed the older boy’s sandy-coloured hair. Michael glanced at him in teary-eyed confusion and Calum smirked a little as he raised his free hand subtly at his side, his fingers twisting lazily together as he collected the moisture from the air using his abilities.

He gathered the water vapour until he had a good-sized droplet in his palm before he sent it flying through the cold air into the quivering man’s face with a casual flick of his fingers. The man looked mildly perturbed as he glanced towards the cloudless sky in bewilderment but persevered with his tedious reading regardless and Calum frowned, his eyes narrowing a little as Michael began to smile beside him.

This simply wouldn’t do at all.

Calum coaxed more water into his palm this time, adding to it until it was closer to the size of a plum now and _definitely_ too big to just dismiss. He glanced over at Michael cheekily and saw his best friend’s poorly-suppressed delight as his emerald eyes glittered with mischief, and the Prince had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from sniggering when he saw his older sister Mali watching him suspiciously where she was standing on his other side. Her expression was equal parts amused but disapproving and she had to cover her shocked laughter with a cough when Calum delicately sent the ball of water hurtling into the mind-numbingly boring man's face.

The man spluttered loudly in shock as he dropped his now-soaked poetry book onto the grass and Michael let out a snort before he could stop himself as he tried to keep from giggling at his dead parents’ memorial service, lest the media smear him over the comms channels for his ‘lack of propriety’ again.

“Stop trying to waterboard him, you little shit!” Mali hissed, her brown eyes sparkling with amusement as she failed to glower at her brother. Calum kept his gaze fixed firmly ahead, hoping that the dimples creasing his cheeks weren’t obvious as he tried not to chuckle at the sight of the harried-looking man squelching off to get dry.

The Prince stiffened suddenly when he felt something sharp prickling his ankle and he looked down in surprise, a grimace creasing his tanned face when he saw the thorny vine erupting from the muddy grass. It was coiled painfully around his leg, just loose enough not to draw blood although that might change if Calum foolishly tried to escape.

He gritted his teeth when he finally found the courage to raise his head, his heart clenching unpleasantly in his chest when he saw his father watching him coldly from the other side of the graves, his expression nothing short of murderous. Clearly, David had noticed his son's poor behaviour and Calum felt like a little kid under the weight of the disappointed looks his parents were shooting him.

He pressed his lips together so hard they want bloodless as he nodded fractionally and, after a moment, the thorny vine sank back into the mud, leaving a single shallow scrape behind on the Prince’s skin, like a warning.

Michael’s hand slipped into Calum’s and the younger boy leant entwined their fingers firmly, grounding himself against the unease bubbling in his stomach at the icy anger on David’s face. He didn’t regret his silliness though; he _couldn’t_ when it had so successfully dried the tears from Michael’s eyes.

Calum would never stop trying to make his best friend happy, no matter how dire the consequences might be. He’d made that promise to himself when he was just five years old on the night when Michael’s parents had been killed and the little sandy-haired boy had fallen to pieces. Calum had spent the next few weeks doing everything he could to make Michael smile again – sharing his toys and tickling him with his water droplets, and impressing the older boy with his clumsy but enthusiastic cartwheels – and seeing those sunny smiles spreading across his best friend’s face again had been the best feeling in the world.

Calum had never once stopped trying to make Michael Clifford happy.

He was going to keep his promise for the rest of his life.

His father’s anger felt less significant in the face of his love for his best friend, no matter how frowned upon it might be in Tenebris. Their society as a whole was cold and unfriendly, in sharp contrast to all of the sordid details of everyone’s lives being smeared over the comms channels, and the royal Hood family were even icier, setting a high standard for all the Tenebrans who longed to be as detached and unemotional as their rulers, wrongly assuming that it would finally make them contented.

If the press could see what went on behind closed doors – the pulsing veins and roaring anger; the choked sobs and ominous threats – their stories would have disappointed the nation because the Hoods weren’t emotionless robots at all. They were just as dysfunctional and emotional as everyone else, no matter how hard David had tried to stamp it out of them.

Calum was lost in his thoughts and the throbbing of the cut on his ankle when Michael nudged him gently to get his attention. It appeared that the ceremony was over now and the Prince was glad of that; relieved to get out of the cold and hopefully spend the rest of the day doing something more pleasant to take Michael’s mind off his grief.

The wind picked up as the majority of the crowd started the slow trudge back up the steep hill towards the citadel, skirting around the graves where they jutted like broken teeth out of the muddy ground. Michael had drifted closer to his parents’ final resting place now, his head ducked like he was listening to something that no one else could hear.

Calum hovered nearby, his gaze flickering anxiously between his best friend and the hungry expressions of the paparazzi lingering by the fences, clearly desperate to come close enough for a good picture. Fortunately, Mali’s cold expression kept them from approaching and, for once, the Prince was glad of his sister’s reputation for being an ‘ice queen’, no matter how much it hurt her feelings, because at least it kept them from interrupting Michael’s mourning.

It did make Calum worry about Mali though. He knew she wasn’t exactly _happy_ – quite honestly, that seemed an impossible feat in his family – but she didn’t normally look quite so despairing. The Prince sidled closer to her, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth as he hooked his chin over her shoulder. She scowled at him weakly without moving away so he decided to count that one as a win.

“What’s wrong, smiley?” Calum asked, tactful as ever. He’d given her the nickname when he was little, mostly because she glared at him about ninety five percent of the time, and she could tell by the twinkle in his chocolate brown eyes that he still thought he was ridiculously amusing even now. Mali’s scowl deepened as she folded her arms tightly over the expensive coat she was wearing, her painted lips pursed unhappily.

“Nothing to do with you, peanut,” she said before suddenly wavering, like the lie hadn’t come as easily as she’d expected. Calum tilted his head to one side inquisitively and his older sister rolled her eyes, a huff of breath escaping her. “Fine,” she said heavily, her shoulders slumping a little. “I broke up with Ashley this morning. Are you happy?”

“Why would that make me happy?” Calum asked softly, more than a little hurt. She sighed and he felt a little of the hurt bleed away, aware that she hadn’t meant to snap at him. He pressed a brief kiss to her shoulder, not lingering since he didn’t particularly want to end up plastered across the comms channels tomorrow for daring to show his family member affection, and Mali drew away unwillingly, her eyes grateful and unusually soft as she gave her brother a gentle look.

“It’s been coming for a long time,” she said with a half-hearted shrug. “Ever since Ashley went to fight on the Boneflats and I didn’t. I thought things would be okay when she came back but… they’re not. I don’t know how to fix it.”

Calum wasn’t sure what to say but he still felt bad that he couldn’t make things better for his older sister. _She_ deserved to be happy too, just like Michael did, and he cared about their wellbeing a lot more than his own. He always had done.

Maybe Calum could find Ashley and talk to her about what had happened. Maybe he’d be able to make her see sense.

“Don’t go interfering, peanut,” Mali said warningly. “If I catch you sticking your nose in, I’ll –” She broke off suddenly, her jaw squaring as she quickly stared down into the grass, and Calum didn’t have to look to realise that his parents were crossing the graveyard towards them.

“Calum,” David said coldly, his footsteps unnervingly silent as his wife Joy lingered beside him, her fingers wrapped like talons around his muscular arm. “Come to my study as soon as you’re back in the citadel.” There was a self-satisfied glint in his eyes that was distinctly unsettling. “I need to speak to you.”

David left without waiting for an answer, his dark gaze blank as he swept away in his fur-lined black cloak, and Calum barely managed to resist rolling his eyes at his father’s theatrics as he watched the older man leave. The cut on his ankle giving a phantom throb and Calum’s frown deepened as the paparazzi’s cameras began to flash blindingly at the wary expression on his face.

Mali stepped in front of him smoothly, blocking her little brother from view while he got himself back under control.

“Go now,” she murmured, glancing worriedly after her parents before her eyes flickered to the press, slavering over them like bloodhounds. “I’ll look after Mike until you get back.”

“Thanks, smiley,” Calum sighed, running his fingers through his dark curls as he shot his best friend one last concerned look. He could feel the blood running down into his sock now and he bit his lip, wincing at the feeling. “I’ll come and find him in a bit.”

He trudged up to the citadel alone, his shaking hands buried deep in his pockets as the fear in his chest began to tighten. He was starting to grow quite concerned about the hint of smugness he’d seen glinting in his father’s eyes because that was never a good thing. The last time David had looked quite so arrogant, Tenebris had declared war on Claritas.

By the time Calum reached his father’s study, the sinking feeling in his chest had turned to dread. The passageway leading to David’s private quarters was narrow and damp, and the flickering candlelight doing little to alleviate the shadows. Calum didn’t understand why his father refused to have electric lighting here or the technology so commonplace throughout the rest of the citadel. He supposed it had something to do with his father’s paranoia and the fact that it would be harder to spy on him if all he had was paper in locked drawers. That way, there was nothing for the press to hack into. That way, he couldn’t be held accountable for his actions.

The man guarding the door remained stoic when Calum raised his shaking fist to knock but the Prince was careful to avoid making eye contact. Quite honestly, he didn’t trust any of his father’s men as far as he could throw them.

“Enter,” David called, his harsh voice splintering the tense silence that had fallen. The door creaked when Calum pushed it open and he wondered why his father didn’t have the hinges oiled; wondered if _that_ was for the drama too. Once again, he barely managed to resist rolling his eyes as he came to an uncomfortable stop on the other side of his father’s desk, his brow creased in a frown.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked awkwardly, his eyes flickering longingly to the narrow window set high in the stone wall. He wanted to escape so badly he could taste it; wanted to be hidden in the privacy of his rooms with Michael and Mali, where he could finally be _himself_ again.

“Sit down,” David said sharply, his voice cutting roughly through his youngest child’s thoughts. “ _Now_ , Calum. I don’t have all day.”

Calum sank down into the leather seat silently, his fingers digging into his thighs beneath the desk as he took a calming breath, his muscles tensed nervously. He hated being in here so much. It would always remind him of being reprimanded as a little kid, back when he’d been too small for his feet to reach the floor. He hadn’t been too young for punishments though; David had always been more than happy to deliver those.

The thought had barely crossed the Prince’s mind when his father carefully adjusted one of his ever-present black gloves, the action clearly premeditated. The effect was instantaneous. Calum found his frightened eyes instantly locked on David’s hands, his heart pounding with fear as he recalled the King’s terrifying ability: he had the power to absorb another’s magical powers and life force simply by touching them.

Calum had lost count of how many stolen abilities David carried with him and now wasn’t the time to dwell on them. Not when his father had just sneered as he carefully slipped the gloves off, setting them neatly on the desk beside him. He began to drum his bare fingertips menacingly on the table and Calum swallowed audibly as he finally met his father’s eyes, the threat in them clear.

The Prince would sit quietly and listen to the King. There was no other option.

“Tell me, Calum, what do you know of the Elevare?” David asked, cutting straight to the point. His spoke as bluntly as the Tenebran architecture of the citadel and the younger boy was grateful for small mercies. At least there was no need to dance around their words now.

“ _Oh_ ,” Calum blurted, surprised by the topic of conversation. “It’s a tournament, isn’t it? An old one hosted between Tenebris and Claritas… but the rules were lost, last I heard. There hasn’t been an Elevare for a century.”

“Very good,” David said slyly. “And do you know _why_ no one has tried to revive the tournament, my son?”

Calum shivered at the glint in his father’s eye, shrugging uncomfortably as his fingernails dug into his skin through the expensive material of his suit. He’d found it to be a good way of grounding himself over the years but it almost meant that his thighs were peppered with half-moon scars that never completely faded away. Calum thought maybe he’d have them forever.

“No one wants to risk unleashing the curses,” he said softly, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip nervously. “Plus… if I remember correctly, the tournament ends in the death of one of the champions. That’s why the scrolls were lost in the first place, right? It was barbaric.”

“Not quite,” David disagreed but his tone was mild. “We’ve held the scrolls all along, down in the vaults below the citadel.” Calum’s eyes widened in shock but he was smart enough to hold his tongue and his father looked approving for a moment. “Word has been sent to the King of Claritas and his court, explaining that some of our best archaeologists stumbled upon the scrolls while they were excavating a catacomb on the outskirts of the Boneflats between our two great nations.”

His lips twisted around the words and the contempt on his face was painfully apparent as he flattened his bare hand suddenly on the desk, making his son flinch back in alarm.

“Naturally, the fool believed me,” David sneered. “He was so desperate for the tournament to be revived. Anything to end the war and encourage international cooperation once more.” He laughed as he spoke, a harsh cold sound, and the Prince felt ill as he looked at the poorly-suppressed glee on his father’s face, his features so achingly similar to his son’s.

Calum couldn’t comprehend the fact that David had let the war go on for so long when there was such a simple way of ending the fighting. The Elevare had always been used to avoid conflict in the past, largely because of its binding magical contract which prevented war between nations while the tournament was running, and the fact that David - and his father, and quite possibly his father before him - had let it go on for so long, purely because the Tenebran royal family benefited from it was incredibly distressing for Calum.

All of that carnage and death… and for what? Money? More power? A way of reducing the Tenebran population and, hopefully, the poverty plaguing their cities?

David made him sick but Calum wasn’t suicidal enough to tell him so. His furious hatred blazed in his damp eyes though and he wasn’t strong enough to keep it hidden. He wasn’t even sure he _wanted_ to anymore.

“I received word from King Fletcher today,” David continued, his tone silky now, like a spider luring a fly into its web. “Fortunately for us, he agreed to the new condition I requested.” That sent warning bells ringing but the younger boy was too emotional to risk opening his mouth now, lest something unforgivably stupid escape him. David’s eyes flashed as he watched his son, almost like he could tell what he was thinking. “It’s time for the Elevare to begin again, Calum, and it’s time for Tenebris to win.”

The cut on the younger boy’s ankle was itching now and he bit his lip against the sting, his dark eyes locked on his father’s. His father clearly wanted this tournament to go ahead a lot more than he was letting on and Calum knew that could spell out nothing good.

“How does the Elevare benefit Tenebris?” the Prince asked softly, hating that he didn’t understand and that his father was withholding so much information from him. The King leant back in his chair as he gave his son a considering look, his eyes narrowing.

“There are a number of reasons,” David drawled as he rested one arm casually over the arm of his chair. It left his hand dangling in the empty space between them and a tongue of flame licked at his fingers when he clicked them idly, the fire curling across his knuckles before he extinguished it in a little puff of smoke. It was just one more stolen ability and it reminded Calum uncomfortably of the disgraced Prince of Claritas for a moment, drawing a shudder from him as he coaxed the moisture from the air, feeling the water droplets sliding comfortingly over his palms.

“On the surface, participating in the Elevare once more will award our nation the glory we have long deserved,” David said simply. “Claritas will be stamped into the dust and all because of their hubris in thinking that their country is any match for ours, even in something as simple as a tournament they've foolishly agreed to participate in.”

“What about _below_ the surface?” the Prince asked recklessly, still dwelling on his father's ominous choice of words. “What's your real motive for wanting the Elevare’s revival?”

“Very good, Calum,” David said quietly, his eyes cold despite the smile curving his lips. “I want _revenge_.” He bared his teeth as he spoke, looking every inch the icy vampiric monster he always tried so hard to portray.

“During the last Boneflats War, the Claritan Crown Prince murdered my brother Thomas.” David's anger had been simmering under the surface until this point but it rippled out of him now, the polished wood between his bare palms slowly icing over. “I won't rest until Prince Ashton is dead. The tournament is how we will finally get close to him.”

Calum didn't point out that his father granting his son permission to fight in the war would have been a much easier way of getting close to the Prince. He just sat there staring at his father in horror as the pieces slowly began to fall into place.

“But… there's no way of knowing that Ashton will compete,” the younger boy said helplessly, his dark eyes wide. “He's hated, dad. Why would they want _him_ to be their champion?”

“That was my only condition,” David said with a sudden air of grace, like the rage had frozen inside him once more, ready to be unleashed the next time he explosively lost his temper. “I explained to the King of Claritas that the only way the Elevare could go ahead is if the Princes of both our nations competed… and, as I told you earlier, the fool accepted.”

Calum's heart felt like it had stopped beating in his chest as he stared at his father in stunned silence, his chest tightening with panic.

“No,” he said weakly as his nails sank into his thighs, deep enough to hurt. “Dad, _please_ don’t make me…” A lump rose in his throat that he could barely breathe past and he hated himself so much when his eyes burnt with tears. “I don’t want to die,” he choked out as the cut on his ankle throbbed. “Please, dad, _please_ –”

“Silence,” David snapped, his gaze fiery as he leant closer across the desk. The Prince flattened himself to the chair, not wanting to be within touching distance of his father’s lethal hands. “I don’t care what you want, Calum. You _are_ going to do this.” The ice David had left on the desk was melting now and the younger boy coaxed the water towards him like a comfort blanket as a tear slipped down his cheek to join the rest of the droplets cradled between his palms.

“Don’t humiliate yourself by begging,” David said, his voice hard as stone. “This is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? The chance to _finally_ prove your worth… and all you have to do is avenge your uncle. That should be an _easy_ choice.” His eyes became even darker then as his lips curved into the barest hint of a smirk. “Unless you’d rather Michael took your place in the tournament?”

“ _No_!” Calum cried, his panic choking him as he stared at his father in alarm. Michael was _far_ too unpredictable to take part in the Elevare, especially if he was feeling angry or frightened. His electrical abilities were volatile at the best of times and he was as likely to hurt himself as his competitor. Calum couldn’t live with himself if he knowingly sent his best friend into danger like that.

David watched the play of emotions on his son’s face with a careless detachment, wearing a sneer as though he’d expected the younger boy to react in this manner.

“You _will_ compete, Calum,” he said coldly. “But you can stop snivelling quite so pathetically. I can assure you that the tournament will work in your favour.”

Understanding dawned in the Prince’s eyes and David’s smile turned colder still.

“You mean… we’re going to _cheat_?” Calum blurted out, feeling wretched but unsurprised by this turn of events. His father rolled his eyes scornfully as he settled back in his chair once more, looking unbearably smug.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t like to be that murderous Claritan Prince once the tournament begins,” he sneered with such a vicious glint in his eyes that Calum actually felt _sorry_ for the stranger whose actions had killed his uncle.

“But, dad –”

“Claritas have already accepted the new condition and the wheels are in motion,” David said simply, his tone unapologetic. “You _will_ kill Prince Ashton, Calum. I don’t care how or when but I want him dead. If an opportunity arises during the first three challenges for his death to look like an accident, you take that chance without hesitating. That way, Claritas is disqualified and Tenebris is granted automatic victory… but if no such occasion arises, you **will** kill him during the final challenge, son. I want him dead.”

The silence in the study was excruciating as the Prince struggled to calm himself, aware that he had no choice in the matter. David was too powerful and Calum was too much of a coward; that much was painfully apparent.

“Don’t disappoint me.” David’s tone was unnervingly gentle as he reached across the desk to wrap his fingers around the younger boy’s wrist, his grip unbreakable. “Tenebran champion or not, I know you don’t want to make me angry.”

Calum was too afraid to speak.

His father hadn’t touched him – skin against skin like this – in almost two decades and it made him shudder. Calum held his breath as his panic burnt him like acid, his eyes locked on where the King’s hand was wrapped like a manacle around his wrist. He waited to feel the terrifying numbness spreading through him as David leeched him of his magic and his life force but it never came.

Somehow, the knowledge that his father had simply wanted to frighten him hurt far worse.

“Are you really so afraid of me, Calum?” David asked softly as he took in his son’s unusually pale face. “You know I learnt your abilities from you when you were a child… and look at you now. Still alive to tell the tale.” The words should have sounded jovial but the King had little practice in expressing kindness. His broken edges were far too sharp for that.

He released the Prince slowly, one finger uncurling at a time, and his expression was thoughtful as he allowed a bead of water to well up in his palm, just to prove that he could. Calum glared at the droplet as his chest heaved with anger. The water didn’t belong in his father’s hand. It was _Calum’s_ magic and it had been taken from him.

Dimly, he wondered how many times David had stolen power from him over the years, in tiny increments so that it was unnoticeable… and then Calum wondered how strong he might become if he escaped from the King’s grasp.

“I think we’re finished here,” David said with a note of finality in his voice. His shoulders slumped suddenly, like he was carrying a heavy weight that no one else could see. “You're free to go, Calum,” he added as he smeared the water from his palm carelessly with the pad of his thumb. “Just don't tell anyone what we've discussed today. The official announcement of the Elevare's revival and its champions will be soon enough but let's not ruin the pageantry before then.”

Calum couldn't leave the study fast enough, almost stumbling into the doorframe on numb legs in his haste to escape from the room. His head was spinning with everything his father had told him and he felt sick as his nerves twisted his stomach into knots. The tears had dried sticky on his cheeks and he wiped them away disgustedly as he finally slowed to a walk once he reached his own quarters, not wanting to cause worry by bursting into his room looking so anguished.

Michael was waiting for him on the younger boy’s bed, one arm tucked behind his head as he watched something trivial on the comms screen mounted on the wall. The sound of canned laughter greeted Calum as he gratefully pulled his bedroom door shut and Michael looked over owlishly, his emerald eyes still a little red from his earlier crying as he shot his best friend a worried look.

“Mali only just left,” the older boy said by way of greeting, his expression a little wary as he took in the way Calum’s hands were faintly trembling. “Ashley stopped by and Mali, like, totally freaked out. I don’t get why.”

“They broke up this morning,” Calum said dully as he slumped down onto the mattress beside Michael. “She told me after the memorial but I didn’t have a chance to speak to you.”

“Oh.” Michael frowned as he settled back down hesitantly on the bed again, his arm wrapping easily around the younger boy’s shoulders as Calum burrowed into the comforting warmth of his side. His chocolate brown eyes fluttered shut when the older boy began to lightly stroke his dark hair and the Prince sighed heavily as the last of his fear drained away.

“Did your dad want to talk to you because of what you did at the memorial?” Michael asked softly, his voice worried as he pressed his lips chastely to the younger boy’s hair. “Because if he was angry, I’ll go tell him it was my fault, Cal. You were only trying to cheer me up.”

“It’s fine, Mikey,” Calum murmured, keeping his eyes shut as a lump rose in his throat. “You can just hug me instead. That’ll more than make up for it.”

“Well, alright,” Michael said doubtfully as his arms slipped comfortingly around the younger boy’s waist. “Can’t have my Princess being sad.”

“Stop calling me Princess,” Calum grumbled into the warmth of his best friend’s neck. The words made him laugh though, as he was sure Michael had intended, and he felt less tense as he snuggled closer, tucking his face safely beneath the older boy’s neck.

Lying like this together now reminded him of their younger years for a moment; reminded him of their bumbling first kisses and the clumsy touches they’d shared in the dark hours. It made Calum ache; not because he missed their relaxed intimacy but because he suddenly realised just how old he felt.

They’d both grown up without him realising it and the realisation frightened him enough that, for one bewildering moment, he almost wanted to kiss Michael again, just to see if the older boy would still let him. The thought hadn’t crossed Calum’s mind in years and he pushed it away harshly, not indulging the idea for even a second. Things weren’t the same between them anymore and the Prince needed to keep himself in check, no matter how comforting their old intimacy might seem through rose-tinted glass. There was no point in complicating things.

Calum’s life was hard enough already.

“You look really shaken up,” Michael pointed out nervously, his green eyes softening as he looked down at the younger boy with concern plain on his pale face. “Was it really that bad talking to your dad?”

Calum shivered, his eyes falling shut as he remembered the frightening feeling of his father’s fingers clamped down on his wrist. His skin burned just remembering it and he bit his lip hard enough to hurt as he focused on the water filling the glass on his bedside table, drawing it easily into his waiting palms. It was cool and comforting, and he relaxed as he rolled it into a ball, holding it up to the light so that it cast rainbows on his bed sheets.

“Cal?” Michael prompted softly, when no response seemed forthcoming.

The Prince tensed as the ball of water returned messily to its glass, leaving splashes across the wood.

“Can’t talk about it,” Calum mumbled as he rolled over, tucking his head stubbornly beneath his best friend’s chin to avoid eye contact. After a moment, Michael stroked his back gently through the coat he hadn’t yet got around to removing.

“That’s okay, Cal,” he murmured, his mouth pressed into an unhappy line now that he knew something was definitely upsetting his best friend. “You don’t have to tell me.” Michael pressed another chaste kiss to Calum’s curls, lingering as though he hoped his love would be enough to make the Prince happy. “You know I’m here for you no matter what,” the older boy added suddenly, almost _fiercely_ loyal, like he was daring someone to try and part them. “That’s never going to change.”

Calum smiled and, for the first time since he’d returned to his bedroom, it finally warmed his eyes.

“You just need to take your mind off things, Princess,” Michael said with a lazy shrug, looking relieved now that his best friend no longer appeared to be on the verge of tears. He curled his hand into a loose fist as lightning crackled between his fingers, bright and dangerous. Michael held Calum’s gaze with his head cocked to one side, looking far too innocent for the deadly electricity twisting across his knuckles. “You in the mood for a little storm, Cal?”

Calum grinned without meaning to as the relief flooded through him like the tide.

“Always, Mikey,” he promised as the thunder began to rumble overhead. “You know I love the rain.”

*

Ashton had always found Claritas most beautiful in the starlight but he barely noticed its magnificence tonight. He was too angry, the rage curling in his stomach like the flames he’d once used to tear armies apart. His father stood beside him patiently, remaining silent as he allowed his only child to seethe at what he had just been told, as was his right.

The Crown Prince’s future had become suddenly perilous and King Fletcher had no wish to make this situation any harder than it needed to be. His only child had suffered enough.

“So I have to compete then,” Ashton said flatly, unable to meet his father’s eye. They gazed out over Aureum together in lieu of speaking, taking in the twinkling lights of the city centre beyond the toughened crystal walls of the palace. The Claritan royal apartments were at their backs, as luxurious as the Prince had dreamt of during his long stay in the hospital. Ashton thought he might want to scream.

“I know this is less than ideal, Ash,” Fletcher said softly, the hazel eyes he shared with his son nothing short of beseeching. “Believe me, I know you deserve to rest after everything you’ve been through and I wish so badly that there was another way but… this is our only option. It’s the only chance we have of uniting our countries without unnecessary bloodshed.”

Ashton didn’t care that his father was speaking sense. He hurt too badly to be reasonable – both inside and out – and the idea of humiliating himself in front of a nation that already despised him made him feel sick.

“I’ve only just learnt to walk again, dad,” he pointed out bitterly as his hazel eyes welled with furious tears. “My competitor will have an unfair advantage.”

“You’ll have to work even harder, Ash,” Fletcher acknowledged sadly, his expression chagrined. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

“That’s not fair and you know it!” Ashton snapped, his eyes flashing angrily as his hands curled into fists. Sparks rained down onto the flagstones but he barely noticed the burn of his magic igniting inside him for the first time since that earth-shattering day on the Boneflats. He was too upset.

“Fairness doesn’t come into it,” the King said softly, his expression tightening with pain. “We’re trying to end a war.”

Fletcher’s lips were downturned with sadness as he settled his hand gently on his son’s shoulder. He relaxed visibly when Ashton leant into his touch with a sigh, his eyes falling shut when his father’s arms wrapped securely around him, keeping him safe against the darkness.

“Do you trust them, dad?” the Prince asked in a softer voice, his eyelashes sticky with tears as he clicked his fingers together experimentally, trailing sparks through the dark air. “Do you honestly trust the Tenebrans to keep their word?”

“We have no choice _but_ to trust them,” Fletcher admitted uncomfortably, his expression crestfallen as he gazed out over the city with his son held safely to his chest. “They’re stronger than us.”

Ashton’s sudden flash of anger took him by surprise as his hands curled around the stone balustrade of the balcony. Flame rippled up his arms, white-hot and unexpected, and Fletcher had to step back sharply to avoid being singed, his eyes wide as he stared at his son in shock. The Prince was panting a little as he gazed down at the fire in surprise, his heart aching in his chest.

His magic had flared back to life again, reborn from fury and fear. That seemed oddly fitting now that he was being flung into the Elevare. Fury and fear were what would hopefully keep Ashton alive.

“Calling Tenebris stronger than us is a dangerous notion to spread,” the Prince said quietly, forcing the anger from his voice although he couldn’t quite keep from hissing the words. “That attitude is why we almost lost the war.”

“Or perhaps it’s what kept us wary enough that we survived instead,” Fletcher countered lightly, apparently unwilling to be offended by his son’s words when he knew they were only the product of fear. “There’s little point in underestimating your enemies, Ash. Surely _you_ understand that, especially after everything you saw in the war.”

Ashton’s heart clenched unpleasantly in his chest as he folded his arms over the balustrade, leaning forwards so that he could peer down into the gardens below. They were beautifully well-kept thanks to Mr and Mrs Hemmings, and his eyes roved over the few flowers still growing in the dead of winter. He wondered how they found the strength to break through the cold ground and bloom in the freezing air. Ashton wished he knew their secrets.

“I’m sorry the tournament has fallen to you to deal with, Ash,” Fletcher murmured as he reached out, settling his palm gently on his son’s back, right over the thick scar that stretched the length of the Prince’s healing spine. They both shuddered. “You already carry far too much.”

Ashton shrugged awkwardly, not trusting himself to speak past the lump rising in his throat although the silence quickly became unbearable.

“I should’ve known you were going to give me bad news,” he grumbled to break the tension that had fallen, his words lacking any heat at all. “Why else would you call me out onto the balcony? You only ever bring me here when you’re going to say something serious.”

Fletcher let out a snort of surprised laughter, the action so undignified that Ashton couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him as his hazel eyes crinkled with amusement.

“Am I really that predictable?” his father demanded, his lips curving into an unconscious smile as he relished the rare happiness on his son’s face. Ashton’s joy died quickly these days so Fletcher was determined to appreciate it for however fleeting a moment.

“Definitely,” the Prince said warmly, his eyes glittering. “But don’t change, dad. I like that about you.”

He glanced around at their familiar surroundings; the fragrant flowers climbing up the trellis on the wall behind them and the sparkling water cascading from the fountain in the gardens down below. His shoulders slumped suddenly, like all of his sadness had overwhelmed him again. Behind him, Fletcher sighed softly.

“The last time you brought me out here, it was to talk about the war, wasn’t it? About the need to set a good example.” Ashton laughed like broken glass, his eyes stinging as a fresh wave of tears boiled over. He rubbed them away with his knuckles, his jaw set against the shame he could feel searing inside him. “That sure backfired, didn’t it?”

Fletcher pulled him into a hug, his arms wrapping warmly around his son as he rocked him gently in his arms. His hand settled in the Prince’s honey-coloured curls and Ashton let out a breathless sob against the fine tunic his father was wearing, his face pressed into the expensive material the way he’d hidden himself as a little kid whenever he got upset.

“You did the best you could do, Ash,” Fletcher murmured when he finally drew back, cradling his son’s burning cheeks gently between his palms. “The way you’re feeling now… it’s awful but it’s understandable, especially after everything you’ve been through.” The King wavered, his eyes softening as he let their foreheads fall to rest together. “I’ve fought on the Boneflats too,” he reminded his son gently as a shiver ran through his broad frame. “So believe me when I say that what you’re feeling now - this survivor’s guilt - will lessen in time. You just have to give yourself the chance.”

Ashton leant into his father’s palm with a shaky sigh, his eyes falling shut as a tear rolled down his overheated cheek.

“You’ll feel strong again, the way you did before,” Fletcher promised, his voice soft, his words nothing but wishful thinking. “Don’t stop fighting, Ash.”

Ashton appreciated his father’s words but he wished they weren’t necessary. He’d been struggling enough already and the sudden stress of having to compete in the Elevare felt like it would be enough to grind him to dust if he wasn’t careful. The Prince hated it; hated the tension and the fear, and the sheer unfairness of the situation.

He couldn’t understand why nothing was ever easy.

Ashton just wanted a quiet life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought <3


	3. Friendly Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! Sorry for the wait but I really wanted to get this chapter right - I've been so excited to share it with you!  
> Fingers crossed you'll enjoy it and thank you as always to my wonderful friend Laura (maluminspace) for all of her encouragement with YWID!
> 
> Trigger warning for brief non-graphic mention of a panic attack and reference to non-graphic self-harm.

**_No, I don't want to talk about myself._ **

**_Tell me where it hurts._ **

**_I just want to build you up, build you up,_ **

**_'Til you're good as new,_ **

**_And maybe one day I will get around fixing myself too._ **

_\- Atlas: Two, Sleeping At Last_

 

The camera flashes were blinding the moment Calum set foot on the airstrip behind the citadel. The jet idled on the tarmac nearby, sleek and inviting; a safe haven from the rabble of journalists currently circling the Prince and his fellow travellers like vultures. Their luggage had already been loaded into the cargo bay by servants – and there was a lot of it, considering how long they’d be staying in Claritas – so it wasn’t like Calum had a lot to worry about as he led the way across the even ground. He just needed to avoid tripping over or shouting anything obscene at the reporters if they inevitably refused to back off. His father didn’t want bad press now, especially when the world was about to receive the announcement that Calum would be the Tenebran champion in the Elevare.

His step faltered as the reality of that crashed over him but Mali’s hand curled firmly around his arm through his ever-present black coat, her expression completely flat behind the large sunglasses she was wearing to hide her emotions from the press. The long skirt she wore swirled around her legs as the Hood siblings strode along, her blood-red leather jacket wrapped around her to fend off the chill of the wintry evening.

Their mother had insisted she wore something more fitting of a Tenebran Princess – namely, practical trousers and a plain coat; clothes that were functional without being eye-catching, similar to the outfit Calum had donned – but Mali was nothing if not stubborn. She’d inherited her dramatic streak from their father and that, coupled with the fact that Ashley had undoubtedly come down to bid her ex-girlfriend goodbye, meant that Mali refused to leave her quarters looking anything less than a famous comms personality.

Calum might have been impressed if he hadn’t been so focused on walking without tripping, as well as keeping an eye on Michael who was looking increasingly pissed off at the shouted, barely-veiled abuse he was receiving from the press. They loved making him lose his temper; loved writing insulting stories painting him as an aggressive orphan with no self-control, furious at the world and everyone in it.

Any passing acquaintance of Michael’s knew that the articles were nonsense but Calum knew it upset the older boy all the same, even if he _did_ refuse to talk about it. Michael let other people's opinions scrape away at him until his nerves were raw with it; until his lightning crackled so close to the surface that he threatened to burn himself out.

“Made it,” Mali breathed, looking equal parts wary and relieved as they reached the steps leading up to the jet. Her hand came to rest firmly on the metal railing as she began to climb, her expression soothed by the cool steel. Her metal-bending abilities meant she always felt most at home like this, surrounded by iron, gold, bronze... It was why she wore so much silver jewellery; not for fashion but for protection; to be adeptly manipulated into armour or a weapon if necessary.

Mali trusted no one – with the exception of her brother, Michael, and Ashley – and that was painfully evident in the metal panels sewn into the insides of her clothes; the metal chains encircling her tanned wrists. Calum was fairly certain his sister went nowhere without a handy armoury hidden inside the folds of her dresses. She was one of the most formidable people he knew and he was endlessly grateful that she was fighting in his corner instead of against him.

Calum wouldn’t have lasted five seconds.

He was halfway up the steps himself when he realised Michael was no longer behind him. The Prince turned his head so sharply his neck cracked, his dark eyes narrowing when he saw the older boy’s tensed shoulders and he stalked angrily towards the waiting paparazzi nearby. The camera flashes were quicker now, like they’d spied another opportunity to make Michael their front page, and Calum cursed under his breath as he jumped down the steps, landing easily on the balls of his feet before he hurried to close the distance between the jet and his best friend.

“Don’t, Mikey,” Calum murmured when he was close enough, his hand settling firmly on the older boy’s shoulder through the oversized grey hoodie he was wearing. “C’mon. Back to the jet. Don’t give these bastards another headline.”

It was probably already too late – Michael’s cheeks were flushed with anger and his eyes were glittering wetly as his shaking hands curled into fists – and Calum’s heart sank as he nudged his best friend up the steps ahead of him, not wanting to risk the older boy wandering off to finish his fight.

“They were talking about my parents,” Michael spat as he stamped into the jet, his pale face set into a deep scowl as he threw himself into the closest seat. “Asking me why I was laughing at their memorial. It’s been two fucking weeks! When are they going to drop it?!”

The doors slid shut with a satisfying hiss behind the Prince, effectively silencing the reporters as the flash of their cameras finally dimmed. Calum bit his lip hard as he sank down into the chair across from his best friend, the unease clear on his face when he pushed his sunglasses up to rest on his curls. Michael’s laughter had been completely his fault that morning and he felt terrible for it, even if he _had_ been trying to cheer the older boy up out of kindness.

“Need me to waterboard someone else?” Calum asked lightly, aiming for a joke because he wasn’t sure how else to fix this. “I reckon there’s enough water in the jet to drown at least _half_ of them before someone stops me.”

Michael’s lips twitched into a weak smile as he reached to hook their ankles together and the Prince relaxed visibly, grateful that he’d been forgiven.

“I hate travelling by jet,” Mali announced from across the aisle, her face the picture of grouchiness as she sank down further into the plush seat she’d selected, already buckled in securely. Calum shot her a sympathetic glance, aware that she was by no means exaggerating. His sister had hated travelling this way since childhood after a quick flight to a neighbouring city had resulted in terrible turbulence and their jet almost being flung out of the sky.

Calum was too young to remember it luckily but Mali had never forgotten. She couldn’t stand to fly without taking something to knock herself out these days which seemed the safest option all round, especially taking into account her metal-bending abilities and the way a person’s powers could fluctuate if they were feeling a particularly strong emotion.

Without the little bottle of sleeping pills Mali was fishing out of the pocket of her leather jacket now, flying with her would be quite dangerous.

“Good evening, Your Majesties.” The crackly voice of their captain sounded over the speakers and Michael looked vaguely pitying as Mali swallowed one of the tablets dry, wincing at the feeling. “Is everyone bucked up and ready for take-off?”

“We are,” Calum confirmed. “Ready when you are, captain.”

The fear on the Princess’ face was plain as she gripped the harness tightly but her expression became determined when she caught her brother’s gaze and she nodded firmly, her jaw squared, as stubborn as ever. It meant so much that she had agreed to accompany him on a transcontinental flight, even though the journey to Claritas would take at least four hours and she was likely to hate every minute of it.

“Love you, smiley,” Calum murmured, just for her. Her lips twitched, even as her eyes began to droop at the strength of the drugs. They weren’t strictly legal but – banned or not – anything could be obtained with relative ease in Tenebris if the seeker had enough money, and the Tenebran royal family had plenty.

“Love you too, peanut,” she murmured, her voice little more than a breath. “You two be good.”

Michael stuck his tongue out in response and she smiled as she passed out, her head lolling back against the headrest as her long dark hair tumbled down around her shoulders. Calum sighed softly as he settled back against the seat, rubbing his face with both hands like he could force his weariness away. Michael kicked his boots off, stretching his leg out to poke his best friend in the knee with one sock-covered foot.

“So, Princess,” the older boy said with a slight smirk. “Excited to play champion?”

Calum scowled at his best friend, vaguely considering putting his sunglasses back on in order to better ignore him before he realised Michael would just laugh at him for it.

“You should call me ‘Princess’ in front of my parents once we’re back in Tenebris,” the younger boy said with a shrug. “See how quickly mum and dad have a meltdown.” His dark eyes flickered towards the tinted windows when he felt the jet picking up speed beneath them and he sighed before he could stop himself, his shoulders slumping. “Let’s not talk about the tournament. I’m fed up of seeing those damn holograms advertising it on every street corner. The Elevare hasn’t even started yet and I’m already sick of it.”

“Seriously? You’re not even a _little_ bit excited?” Michael frowned a little as he leant forwards in his seat. “You like people watching you, Princess,” he pointed out, his eyes twinkling knowingly. “This should be your dream.”

“Well, it isn’t,” Calum said bitterly, folding his arms tightly across his chest as he huddled up in his coat, perpetually cold. “Why would I be excited about this? All that’s going to happen is that I’ll make an arse of myself on camera and then probably end up getting killed too… so no, Mike. I’m not excited in the slightest.”

“Stop being such a drama queen,” Michael said loftily, rolling his eyes as he stuck his feet up on Calum’s seat, crossing his legs at the ankle. The Prince didn’t even thinking about shoving him away – he knew exactly how stubborn his best friend was – but he did make sure Michael saw him glowering, just to avoid any confusion about whether or not the younger boy was in a bad mood.

“You won’t get killed,” Michael said in a softer voice, poking Calum in the thigh with his toes again. “The tournament is different now, isn’t it? They explained that in the announcement. It’s been modernised so the challenges have changed. That means no battle to the death at the end, yeah? It’ll just be about besting your opponent.”

Calum’s heart ached as he took in the earnestness on his best friend’s face. He wished he could tell Michael the truth about the conversation with his father: that Calum had been sworn to kill the Claritan Crown Prince no matter what.

“Do you think the media will be this bad in Claritas?” the older boy asked suddenly, pulling a face as he glanced out of the window at the wisps of cloud slipping by in the growing darkness. “They’ve been unbearable lately.”

“Probably,” Calum muttered unhappily, his muscles tensing. The press had been a nightmare ever since the Elevare had been announced and – no matter how wryly amusing he found it when they begged him for his opinion on who he thought the Tenebran champion might be – they still managed to grate on his last nerve.

Maybe the worst thing was that he knew the press were about to get a lot worse too. The moment that found out Calum was competing in the Elevare, he knew they’d stop at nothing to plaster him across every comms channel for even the tiniest misdemeanour. His life was about to become downright hellish.

“We’ll have bodyguards though,” the Prince tacked on as little more than an afterthought. “If things get too bad, I’m sure they’ll step in.”

“Will they be Claritan?” Michael asked uncertainly, a slight frown marring his features. He looked uncomfortable at the prospect and Calum was quick to reassure him, his palm settling comfortingly on the older boy’s leg through the torn black jeans he was wearing.

“Definitely not,” the Prince said, letting out a huff of uneasy laughter. “You know mum and dad would never allow that. The bodyguards are Tenebran. They flew out to Claritas yesterday with some members of the royal council, at dad’s request.” He shrugged half-heartedly, his dark eyes tired as he took in the worry hardening Michael’s face.

“Don’t worry, Mikey,” Calum said gently. “There’ll be people watching out for us while we’re there. You’ll be safe.”

“I want _you_ to be safe too,” Michael mumbled, his cheeks heating a little. He’d never been very good at accepting his emotions, let alone voicing them, and the younger boy appreciated it a lot in that moment, even if it wasn’t a promise he could make.

To tell the truth, Calum wasn’t as concerned by the dangers the Elevare presented as he perhaps should have been. He truly believed his father when David insisted that the tournament would be rigged and the Prince was sure that would be enough to keep him safe. After all, he was supposed to kill the Crown Prince and Calum couldn’t exactly do that if he was dead, could he?

David wouldn’t sacrifice his son just for revenge.

“Whatever happens will happen for a reason,” Calum said with another of those self-deprecating little shrugs, his tone mild enough that it was sure to piss the older boy off. “At least we finally get to leave Tenebris though, right? I never thought the day would come. We barely even leave the _capital_.”

“Well, let's try and enjoy this experience then,” Michael said wryly, the bags under his eyes smeared like bruises as he bared his teeth in one of his signature ferocious grins. “Going on holiday is always fun. I don't see why this should be any different.”

“Of course it'll be fun, Mikey,” Calum said loftily as he swept his dark curls out of his eyes. “You're with _me_.”

The next few hours were spent reading, playing games on their comms, and trying to outdo each other by finding the very worst photos of them taken by the paparazzi. When Calum finally had to concede defeat after a particularly magnificent photo of an incredibly sunburnt Michael scowling at the photographers like a furious tomato, he deemed it time to put his comm away. He’d snorted with laughter enough that he was wary of waking Mali up and the stress on his best friend’s face had finally bled away into contentedness. It was a rare enough sight these days and Calum was glad that Michael seemed so relaxed now, especially when the older boy loped over to slump down in the seat beside the Prince, his head coming to rest easily on the younger boy’s broad shoulder.

“We should research your opponent,” Michael declared, even as his fingers flew across the keypad on his comm as he typed in the Claritan Crown Prince’s name. “We can’t have you going into the tournament unprepared. You’ve got to make Tenebris look good!”

Calum fought against the now-familiar surge of guilt whenever Ashton was mentioned, hating the panic fluttering in the confines of his ribcage as his fingers bit into the arm of the chair. His father’s words haunted him whenever he closed his eyes; the cold certainty flooding the icy lines of the King’s face as he insisted that his son had no choice but to murder his opponent in a tournament put in place to end the fighting between their countries.

Calum wondered how David could be so short-sighted… and then he wondered why he hadn’t been strong enough to say no in the first place.

Michael was quiet beside him, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth as his tired eyes scanned over the newsfeed on his comm. He was still snuggled up against his best friend’s side, his bleached blond hair fluffy where it was tickling the hard line of Calum’s squared jaw.

“It’s kind of sad really, isn’t it?” the older boy murmured as he tapped on an article comparing the differences between Ashton before and after his tour in the Boneflats War. “Y’know, with everything that’s happened to him,” Michael clarified needlessly when the Prince remained silent. “I get that what he did was… well, _terrible_ but… look at him. Just _look_ at him.” The older boy waved his comm in Calum’s face vaguely threateningly. “He looks broken, doesn’t he? It’s awful.”

They were both quiet as they looked at the photos, comparing the infectious grin and sparkling hazel eyes in the first picture to the grim reality of the second: the tanned face strained with pain and fatigue, and the hollowness in the Crown Prince’s gaze. The photo had been taken through a window, showing a hospital room of some sort, and Calum felt cold anger unfurling inside him when he realised just how unreasonably invasive the press seemed in Claritas.

They’d tear Michael apart if he lost control here, ripping him into bloody chunks the way they’d already ruined their own Crown Prince.

Calum felt a lot like he was going to be sick.

“Ashton’s fallen a long way,” the younger boy allowed eventually, his tone uneasy as he fought to swallow past the lump rising in his throat. “I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes.”

It didn’t feel like enough but Calum didn’t have the words necessary to articulate how distressing he found the article. He couldn’t wrap his head around how awful the older Prince’s life must have become since returning from the war because… fuck, to go from being the nation’s golden boy to an outcast, vilified and tormented by the people who had once sworn to love him was terrifyingly sobering.

Calum wasn’t sure he’d cope if that happened to him; if the planned cheating and his father’s cruel orders came to light.

Michael was already reading the next story by now, his brow creasing further with every word he read until Calum had to fight the urge to smooth the older boy’s frown away with his fingertip. He didn’t want to look at the articles anymore. They were setting his blood boiling in his veins because even Calum - a total stranger - could tell that the bile the journalists were spilling was nothing but lies. The writing was painfully biased, and he couldn’t understand why anyone believed the rumours and gossip being peddled so savagely… and then he remembered that this was the boy who had killed his kind uncle Thomas and hundreds of others besides, and any softness in Calum’s chest was stamped out like embers.

Ashton didn’t deserve his pity and the Tenebran Prince certainly wasn’t going to give it to him.

Calum had enough to worry about without wasting emotional energy on a murderer who hadn’t earnt a single scrap of his sympathy.

Michael must have felt his best friend tense up because he glanced over nervously, his bottom lip turning bloodless as his teeth returned to torture it. He’d left a water bottle discarded on the seat across from him and the liquid was churning inside it, swirling violently in time with Calum’s heartbeat.

“Cal?” Michael murmured, his green eyes widening a little when he saw the anger burning dully in his best friend’s eyes. The Prince clearly needed a distraction and the older boy was quick to provide one, although in his stress, he possibly didn’t choose the best subject change.

“I know you said you don’t want to talk about the tournament but… I just have one more question,” Michael said softly, biting uneasily at the side of his thumb as the water in the bottle finally stopped simmering. He waited for Calum’s weary nod of assent before he pushed on, heartened. “Why is it you and Prince Ashton competing this year? Why aren’t we following tradition and having the commoners participate instead?”

His voice twisted around the word ‘commoners’ as a hint of bitterness welled inside him and he sighed as he drew away a little, his arms coming to wrap around himself in the baggy hoodie he was hiding in.

“It was my dad’s decision,” Calum muttered uncomfortably as his cheeks flushed. “It was the only condition he had when he spoke to King Fletcher: that the two Princes represent their nations.”

A heavy silence hung in the air between them and Michael sighed, his expression faintly knowing as he twisted in his seat to fix the younger boy with a hard look.

“This is about uncle Tommy, isn’t it?” Michael asked bluntly, the informal nickname rolling easily off his tongue after growing up in the citadel as an honourary Hood. The older boy had long since been considered family and Thomas had always had a soft spot for the orphan when he’d been alive, maybe even more so than his own nephew. Calum could see it in the sadness reflected in his best friend’s soft green eyes.

“Mikey…” Calum’s voice trailed away helplessly and the unhappiness on his face must have been answer enough because the older boy stilled, his frown deepening as the Prince’s fingertips dug into his thighs, hard enough to bruise.

“Stop it. Cal, _stop it_ ,” Michael chided gently, his expression saddening as he reached to take his best friend’s hands gently between his own, even as the realisation dawned on his ashen face. Across the aisle, Mali stirred in her sleep and Calum closed his eyes tightly against the unpleasant prickle of tears.

“Your dad wants you to beat Ashton as revenge, doesn’t he?” the older boy murmured unhappily, his thumbs rubbing the Prince’s knuckles comfortingly as he peered into his best friend’s face. Calum shrugged silently, unable to speak past the guilt he could feel surging inside him like a tidal wave. He hated that it was necessary to lie to Michael in order to keep him safe but he knew this was the only option. He had to protect his best friend; had to keep him in the dark about David’s dangerous plan, even if lying to Michael _did_ make Calum feel like he was being scraped raw because it was the one thing he’d always sworn not to do.

“I think so,” the Prince confided quietly, unable to look his best friend in the eye. “Maybe… maybe if I can do this for him, he’ll finally… _finally_...” He broke off suddenly, unable to speak past the lump rising in his throat as he realised that there was a glimmer of truth in his words after all.

David had been right that day in his study. All Calum had ever wanted was to feel accepted by the King; to finally prove himself so that his father might show him the love he craved so desperately that he ached.

Michael wrapped his arm wordlessly around the younger boy’s shoulders as he pressed a soft kiss to the Prince’s curls, cradling Calum’s trembling hands carefully in one of his own in an effort to keep his best friend from hurting himself again.

“I love you,” Michael whispered, even though it would never be enough to fill the hole in Calum’s heart that David had carefully hollowed out over the years. “Mali loves you. We always will.”

The sky was inky black outside and Calum exhaled shakily when Michael kissed his cheek, a watery smile touching his lips when he leant more heavily against the older boy, dark curls against bleached blond locks. Calum’s hands slipped free when Michael’s other arm slipped around him too and he huffed out a laugh when the older boy drew him into a tight hug, uncaring of the way the armrest was digging into their ribs. Calum turned his face away into his best friend’s neck, breathing in the comfort smell of home lingering on Michael’s skin.

“Love you too,” Calum mumbled, cheeks pink as he wiped his tears away subtly with his sleeve. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure we can,” Michael said softly as he finally released the younger boy from the tight hug. His expression remained undeniably soft as he took Calum’s hand, entwining their fingers securely as the older boy folded himself up more comfortably in the chair. It was hard to believe Michael had a whole storm roiling under his pale skin at times like these, when he looked softer than the clouds floating past outside.

Calum was so glad Michael let him see behind his mask.

“What do you think Claritas will be like?” the older boy asked curiously, making his tone as lighthearted as possible in an attempt to keep the Prince from sinking further into his misery. Calum held Michael’s hand tighter, biting his bottom lip as he thought about the strange new country they would be spending the next six months in.

“It seems very different to Tenebris,” the younger boy admitted after a moment, his mouth quirking into a growing smirk. “Supposedly they’re all about fancy food and flashy clothing, right? So I figure it’ll just be a country of lazy, extravagant peacocks.”

Michael snorted with wry amusement at his best friend’s scathing tone, rolling his eyes fondly.

“We’ll be able to run rings around them, Cal,” the older boy said smugly, his shoulders rising in a lazy shrug. “They won’t know what’s hit them when we arrive.”

“Don’t be too cocky,” Mali said out of nowhere, her reprimand making them both jump as they looked over at her in surprise. She must have woken up while the pair of them were talking and Calum’s cheeks heated at her stern expression. “It’s not smart to make presumptions like that or you’ll only be setting yourself up to fail.” She straightened up in her seat, her dark eyes flashing as she tucked her long hair behind her pierced ears. “Just because the Claritans have pretty feathers doesn’t mean they won’t pack a mean punch.”

Calum tensed, folding his arms across his chest as he glowered down at the floor. He’d never exactly relished being chastised by his older sister - no matter how relevant her words might be - and he bit his lip hard as he wondered why the topic had struck such a nerve with him.

Deep down though, he thought he probably knew the answer. He’d always been bitter about the differences between their two nations whenever he saw those sparkling images of Claritas on the comm channels; always hated the fact that while Tenebris had some of the richest people in Cerasus, it was also home to the very poorest. The Tenebrans didn’t waste money or resources on luxuries; not when the basics would do just fine. It was this attitude that had allowed them to gain the upper hand during the war… but it had also made them harder and colder than any other nation on the planet.

The captain’s voice crackled over the speakers suddenly, cutting through the strained silence that had fallen between the three of them as he advised his passengers that there were about to begin their descent towards Claritas. Calum’s heart clenched in his chest as the nerves seared through him once more, his frightened eyes locking with his sister’s across the aisle as Michael gripped his hand tighter, clearly able to pick up on his best friend’s fear.

“Don’t underestimate your opponent, Cal,” Mali murmured, her knuckles whitening with how tightly she was gripping the harness as the jet began to descend. There were city lights sparkling below them and Michael gazed through the toughened glass in awe as his palm came to rest against the window, leaning closer like he was so desperate to start exploring.

“I thought the Elevare was about encouraging international relations and making friends,” Calum said pointedly, his eyes locked on his sister’s face. Mali’s gaze softened a little as the lights outside loomed closer.

“They're still enemies, peanut,” she said seriously. “So try not to forget that because they certainly won't.”

Her eyes glinted as she watched him and he tensed, his hands curling into loose fists at the suspicion he could see in his sister’s expression. He was starting to worry that she’d been awake for longer than he’d realised and, when Mali saw the wary defiance in her younger brother’s face, her eyes narrowed. She was blatantly scrutinising him and he panicked for a moment that she’d been awake long enough to hear him lie to Michael about the reason he’d been chosen as the Tenebran champion.

Mali had always been able to tell when he was being dishonest and, although there was no way of knowing for certain that she’d overheard their conversation, he was quite sure by the hardening of her expression that she didn’t trust her brother.

Calum would have to be careful.

*

Ashton rushed his breakfast, shovelling in spoonfuls of yoghurt and berries so quickly that his mother looked quite concerned as she sat across from him, forgetting her own toast in the face of her only child possibly choking to death on unchewed fruit.

“Slow down, love,” Anne murmured, one delicate eyebrow rising behind her blond hair. It was still loosely plaited from bed and she looked soft with sleep, one elbow resting informally on the table. “No one’s going to steal your breakfast from you.”

“I’m running late,” Ashton explained around a mouthful of strawberry. “I’m meeting Laura and Luke this morning. We’re going shopping for some last minute things before the Elevare’s Opening Gala tomorrow night.”

“Your dad and I need to speak to you before you leave this morning,” Anne warned him before her face softened, becoming worried and sad. “Is this the first time you’ve gone out in public since -”

“Yes, mum,” the Crown Prince mumbled, his cheeks heating as he looked away, focusing on scraping the last of the yoghurt from his bowl. His healing spine gave a phantom throb as he straightened up in his chair with a grimace. “It’ll be fine though. I’ll have my friends with me.”

He was already halfway to the door when Fletcher appeared, looking unusually grave for so early in the day. His hair was greying at the temples and the lines around his eyes deepened when he gave his son a tired smile.

“Can we have a word with you before you leave, Ash?” he asked as he sank down into one of the chairs at the dining table. It was quiet in the royal apartments, the balcony doors shut tight against the cold morning air.

“Sure, dad.” Ashton returned to the seat he’d just vacated hesitantly, his hazel eyes narrowing a little when Anne pushed her plate of toast away unfinished, almost like she’d lost her appetite. “Has something happened?”

“Nothing new,” Fletcher said carefully, pausing to exchange an unhappy glance with his wife. “Ash, that day in the hospital room when the brick was thrown through your window -”

“I told you I didn’t see anything,” Ashton said heavily, his teeth gritted as he tried not to remember how hopelessly lost he’d felt when he was trapped in the hospital. Anne reached across the table to take her son’s hand, her soft eyes growing damp at the pain on his face.

“We’ve received intelligence regarding the incident and we believe we know who was behind it,” Fletcher explained, his tone hesitant as he watched the Crown Prince carefully. “Ash, while you were unconscious, there were a number of similar incidents that… well, we decided to keep quiet about. You had enough to be dealing with and neither of us wanted to scare you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ashton demanded weakly, his hazel eyes widening in shock as he pulled away from his mum, his hands falling to tangle anxiously in his lap. Both of his parents were watching him silently now, the unhappiness clear on their expressions as the panic dawned on their son’s face. “If that day with the brick wasn’t an isolated incident, you should’ve warned me! How else could I keep myself safe?”

“Your magic hadn’t resurfaced yet, Ash,” Fletcher said gently, his hazel eyes sad. “You wouldn’t have been able to defend yourself and we believed we had the situation under control -”

“They threw a brick through my window!” the Crown Prince cried, his voice rising as the temperature in the room rose in time with the flames beating below his skin. “It almost hit me!”

He pressed his lips together hard before anything else could escape him, hating the prickle of tears in his eyes as he flattened his palms on the table, fighting to keep the fire inside. He didn’t want to snap at his parents when he felt like this. He knew he wasn’t really angry at them; he was _afraid_ and he hated how vulnerable it made him feel.

“Ash, love…” Anne’s eyes were brimming with tears and he winced when he slowly withdrew his hands to see the scorch marks on the table underneath.

“I’m sorry,” Ashton whispered past the lump rising in his throat. “I’m sorry, both of you. I know you did what you thought was right.” His heart ached when they both reached for him at the same time, their hands covering his fist like they could carry his worries themselves.

“You said you found out who was responsible?” the Crown Prince asked quietly, his stomach churning unpleasantly at the anxiety coursing through him. He wished he hadn’t eaten his breakfast so quickly earlier. He wished he hadn’t got out of bed this morning in the first place.

“It’s a group who call themselves the Purgatio,” Fletcher explained, his eyes still wary as he took in the way the younger boy was trying to calm himself. “According to the reports we’ve received, they were formed over half a year ago, when the truce was declared and the Boneflats War came to an end.”

“And they’re angry because of… because of what I did?” Ashton shuddered, fighting not to recall the searing flame and the devastating rockslide, crushing everything in its path. “Is it because of the deaths I caused?” He spoke in little more than a whisper, still unable to process the absolute carnage he’d caused by losing control of his magic. “Is that why they were trying to hurt me?”

“Not at all, Ash,” Fletcher murmured as he squeezed his son’s hand gently. “The Purgatio are angry because the fighting ended. They’ve been declaring over the comms channels that they stand for Claritan independence, hence them reacting so negatively to the end of the Boneflats War. They hate the Tenebrans and they don’t want our nation having anything to do with Tenebris, and that’s why they’re so angry at you, Ash. They blame you for the war ending.”

“So… they’re basically just xenophobic?” The Crown Prince pulled a face, looking disgusted for a moment before the anxiety coiled tighter around his lungs. “If they already hate me and the idea of our nations working together, the Elevare must be a pretty sore point for them, right?”

“Exactly,” Anne said quietly, her expression just as grave as her husband’s. “That’s the reason we’re so concerned about how the Purgatio will react once they discover that you’re the Claritan champion, love. We’ve tried to take every measure we can to keep you safe.”

“Your mum’s right,” Fletcher agreed, his shoulders slumping a little as he relaxed fractionally. “It’s why we’ve taken further precautions to keep you safe, especially now you’ve healed enough to leave the estate for the first time. Now, we know you might not be thrilled about this but we have to be practical about the situation, Ash. Your magic definitely isn’t as powerful as it used to be and, until you return to full strength - and the Purgatio are stopped once and for all - we don’t want you to be unprotected, especially outside these walls.”

“What are you saying?” Ashton asked, his hazel eyes narrowing as his gaze flickered uncertainly between the King and Queen.

“We’ve hired you a bodyguard, Ash,” Anne said hesitantly. “She’s here to keep you safe and… well, I’m afraid you're not really in a position to decline. The council were quite insistent that your safety is ensured.”

The Crown Prince pursed his lips as he processed his mother’s words, quite certain that the measure of assigning him a bodyguard wasn’t just to keep him safe from the Purgatio who seemed to be thirsting for his blood. He was fairly sure the council had requested it as a precaution too, just on the off-chance that Ashton lost control and exploded again. Maybe it was to keep other people safe from _him_... because he was dangerous now; because no one could trust him not to accidentally flare up and kill a couple of hundred more innocent people.

“Her name’s Sierra Deaton,” Fletcher said tentatively, taking in the tightening of his son’s expression with growing sadness in his eyes. “She possesses powerful ice magic and, if memory serves correctly, she served in the army around the same time you did. You’ll be able to bond over that. She’s signed all the necessary paperwork too - anything she witnesses won’t be passed on to the press. You can trust her.”

“She’s waiting for you out in the hallway,” Anne added with a soft smile, clearly hoping to end the conversation before her son could lose his temper again. “We thought you might like to meet her by yourself since you’ll be spending so much time together.” Her soft eyes twinkled as she spoke, as though an idea had just occurred to her. “Maybe you two can introduce yourselves on your way downstairs to meet Laura and Luke. I’m sure Sierra will get along with the three of you like clockwork.”

Ashton bristled uncomfortably as he rose from the chair, his long fingers easing the tangles out of his hair awkwardly as a sigh escaped him. He didn’t want to be babysat by someone - _especially_ not a veteran of the Boneflats War who had undoubtedly witnessed the the havoc he’d unleashed first-hand - but he knew there was no point arguing with his parents; not when their kind faces were so stern. It was better to just accept their decision and try to make the best of a probably-terrible situation.

That was what the Crown Prince had been doing his whole life after all.

He straightened his shoulders as he ventured out warily into the hallway, bracing himself when the door clicked shut quietly behind him. He saw a figure moving in his peripheral vision and swallowed down the nerves he could feel as his heart pounded in his chest. He was afraid she would hate him, especially if she’d seen the things he’d been forced to do during the war. He was afraid to see the painfully familiar coldness in her eyes that so many people hid behind when they addressed him these days, struggling to conceal their disgust.

She was smaller than he’d expected, barely reaching his shoulder as she planted her feet in front of him, dressed in a red leather jacket and black jeans. She looked to be a few years older than him and would have been distractingly pretty if the Crown Prince were that way inclined, and he blushed a little when he realised he’d simply been standing there gawking at her.

“Miss Deaton?” he asked awkwardly, extending a hand for her to shake, only to grimace when a flame licked anxiously at his fingers. Her dark eyes glittered with amusement when he dropped his hastily-curled fist quickly to his side, his cheeks flaming hotter.

“Sierra will do just fine,” she said firmly, her tone surprisingly warm. “It’s good to finally meet you, Ashton. We served in the same regiment, so I’ve been told.” He was pleasantly surprised that she didn’t use his title; it made him feel more like they were on equal footing and he smiled a little without meaning to as some of the tension leaked from his shoulders.

“My father spoke very highly of your abilities,” the younger boy said with a crooked smile. “Ice magic, right?”

“Spot on,” Sierra agreed as her painted lips curved into a smile. Her long dark hair was drawn back into a low ponytail and she smirked as she wiggled a hand at him teasingly, her fingertips growing frosty. “Freezing bullets mid-air was my speciality.”

“I remember your work,” Ashton said honestly, his eyebrows rising as he realised just how impressive his new bodyguard’s powers were. “You could shatter guns just by freezing them, couldn’t you? It was incredible.” It was all coming back to him now and he knew the awe must have been evident in his expression because she blushed a little, dropping her gaze as she rubbed the back of her neck uneasily.

“Anyone would’ve done the same,” she said with a half-hearted shrug although she couldn’t quite keep the pleased smile from her tanned face. “Although I appreciate the admiration, Your Majesty. It does wonders for my ego.” She gave a sarcastic little bow and he laughed before he could stop himself, his hazel eyes warmer than they’d been in weeks.

He liked her already.

“I’m about to head into central Aureum with my best friends,” Ashton said when she seemed content to simply watch him, her dark eyes twinkling. “From my father’s instructions, I assume this means you’ll be accompanying us?” She looked a little awkward for a moment, burying her hands in the pockets of her jeans as she gave him a wan smile, and Ashton became quite certain that this was her first time working as a bodyguard. The last of his unease slipped away as he bumped her arm lightly with his elbow. “You seem funny and fairly sarcastic so I’m sure they’ll both like you, Sierra. Let’s go meet them, yeah? I’m more than ready to get out of here.”

He was almost skipping as he descended the stairs, his heart light in his chest as he spotted Luke and Laura Hemmings waiting for him in the entrance hall. They lived in an apartment with their parents on the lower floor in a residence specially assigned to the groundskeepers of the estate. They’d lived there their whole lives and Ashton was so glad of it because the Hemmings siblings made his life infinitely better. He’d barely reached the marble floor at the foot of the stairs when he was bundled into a tight hug. He caught a brief glimpse of Laura - her long fair hair and sparkling blue eyes; the hint of tattoos inking the pale skin beneath her flannel shirt; her scarred hands and the brightly-coloured nails she favoured to distract from the old injury - before she tucked her face away into his neck, drawing him even closer.

“I missed you,” she said fiercely as his hand came to settle gently on her back. “I can’t believe it took you being appointed a champion of the damn _Elevare_ for you to hang out with us again!”

“I’ve been in a bad mood,” Ashton said in a small voice, shrugging awkwardly. “I didn’t want to bring you guys down.”

“Silly,” Laura murmured, her expression softening as she drew back to look up at him. She smelt nice, like the flowers she coaxed so easily from the ground with her abilities, and he squeezed her hand tightly, his heart aching a little as he realised just how much he’d missed the older girl. “We love you no matter what, Ashy. Don’t be a stranger.”

Luke appeared behind his older sister, his arms wrapping easily around her shoulders as he settled his chin lightly on the top of her head. She scowled at him as his lips twitched into a weak smile, never thrilled that her baby brother could make her feel so small, but the affection in her eyes shone clearly as she momentarily caught her sibling’s gaze and Ashton couldn’t have suppressed his fondness if he tried.

“It’s good to see you again, Ash,” Luke said softly, his caramel-coloured curls falling in front of his eyes when he ducked his head shyly. He still seemed a little awkward even now, despite the years that had passed since their relationship had ended, and Ashton hoped so badly that things would start to feel normal between the pair of them soon. He hated being the cause of the younger boy’s unhappiness.

“Who’s your new friend, Ash?” Laura asked curiously as she shot the newcomer a slightly wary smile. Sierra was hovering awkwardly nearby with her fingers twisting uncomfortably behind her back and Ashton blushed when he realised he’d simply left her lingering there alone.

“This is Sierra,” the Crown Prince said with an awkward little wave of his hand. “She’s here to make sure I don’t explode into another fireball and burn the palace down with her fancy ice magic.” Laura and Luke exchanged wide-eyed glances as they considered the implications of this, both of them wincing at their friend’s forced laughter, and Ashton shrugged half-heartedly, his gaze flickering fleetingly to his bodyguard’s face.

Sierra was blushing now - so clearly, Ashton hadn’t been far off the mark when he’d guessed that the council might have ulterior motives for assigning him a bodyguard - but it made the Crown Prince feel better for some reason. At least with Sierra beside him, he didn’t have to worry about accidentally causing harm to the people around him. She was like a shield almost; her ice the perfect remedy for his volatile flames.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ashton said hopefully as he led the way towards the doors, the promise of fresh air and new surroundings luring him like a moth to a lantern. “I’ve been stuck in here enough to last a lifetime.”

“I bet you’ll be _glad_ to make a fool of yourself in the tournament then,” Laura said with a sly smile. “If you’re so excited to get out in public again.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” the Crown Prince scoffed as he trotted down the shallow stone steps leading down into the gardens. A light breeze stirred the flowers nearby and he inhaled deeply as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, just appreciating the feeling of the warmth on his skin. A chirp of birdsong sounded from nearby and he looked towards it, his lips curving into an unconscious smile when he saw the tiny wren singing proudly from its new vantage point on Luke’s outstretched hand.

Birds had always liked the youngest Hemmings child - something to do with his air abilities, maybe, although no one had ever been able to work it out for sure - and they were one of the only things guaranteed to smooth out the ever-present frown on Luke’s forehead as his worries ate away at him. He loved songbirds; loved mimicking their music and stroking their soft feathers with his fingertip. It was beautiful to see and - no matter how awkward the younger boy might behave around his ex-boyfriend - Ashton would never stop appreciating moments like this, when Luke’s sudden happiness shone like the sun breaking through the clouds overhead.

Their eyes met for a moment and the Crown Prince smiled faintly, relaxing a little when the younger boy’s lips curved up weakly in response. Ashton took heart in that, hoping it meant that their friendship was still salvageable.

He missed Luke the way he’d missed his magic; the way he missed unbroken nightmare-free sleep and living without fear.

He hoped the younger boy never forgot how important he was to the Crown Prince, no matter how difficult things felt between them nowadays.

Ashton hoped he found a way to make things right again, before the sadness in Luke’s eyes swallowed him whole.

*

Luke was quiet in the transport on the way into Aureum. The roads were unusually empty and he let his cheek rest against the cool glass as the vehicle carried them down the sun-dappled streets. It was a warm day, the sky a pretty cornflower blue as wisps of cloud drifted overhead. They passed bubbling fountains and rich estates nestled between the rolling fields, and the heady scent of roses wafted into the transport through the partially-open windows as Luke let his fingertips dance in the wind, manipulating it so that a flurry of flower petals flew in their wake, carried on the breeze.

The closer to central Aureum they drove, the more modern the buildings became, until it was more common to see sparkling glass and gleaming metal than the fine white stone the palace was built from. The holograms situated on most street corners usually advertised different products but, during the last week, they’d switched to promoting the Elevare and Luke shot them a wary look as his gaze flickered back towards Ashton where the older boy was sitting across from him, smiling serenely as they left the palace far behind them.

Sierra sat in the seat beside the Crown Prince, her dark eyes more calculating than they’d been back at the relative safety of the estate as she clearly worked hard to identify any potential threats. He wasn’t sure how he felt about having a stranger intruding in their personal lives but he knew Sierra wouldn’t have been assigned if it wasn’t necessary. He just hoped she’d be professional enough to keep her new position private in the coming weeks. The press were already having a field day after pictures of the Crown Prince learning to walk again had surfaced; Luke couldn’t imagine how cruel they’d be if they discovered he needed a bodyguard because he lacked control of his own magic.

“Are you excited for the Opening Gala tomorrow night, Ash?” Laura asked from beside her brother, tucking a lock of hair behind her pierced ear as she watched the Crown Prince fondly. She’d missed him a lot more than she’d let on earlier and Luke glanced at her guiltily as he fidgeted in his seat, feeling bad for the number of times he’d gone to visit Ashton while his older sister was busy training as a healer.

He knew she’d understand; would never resent him for spending time alone with the boy who had once been his very best friend… but Luke wasn’t sure he understood himself why he had been drawn back to the medical bay like a magnet, day in and day out, even when the Crown Prince was still unconscious.

Maybe it was the calm atmosphere of the hospital room or the lack of tension he’d felt between himself and Ashton while the older boy was still sleeping… or maybe it was something else; something Luke was too frightened to dwell on, for fear of stumbling upon the emotions he’d tried so hard to bottle up and bury… but like a message in a bottle thrown out to sea, the tide had carried it straight back again and, deep down, Luke knew exactly who had been luring him to the medical bay every day…

It was Niall Horan, with his kind eyes and warm smiles, and the way he made Luke forget about the cuts lining his skin. Niall could make the younger boy laugh when he didn’t even feel like smiling and Luke would never be able to put into words how important that was to him; the fact that Niall made him feel **seen** when it sometimes felt like no one else even looked at him.

“If you two are still up for coming to the Gala with me, it’ll be slightly less horrific,” Ashton allowed, his words jarring Luke from his thoughts as a blush stained his cheeks. He’d forgotten his sister had even asked a question in the first place and hurried to look attentive, his face only burning hotter when he saw Sierra quirk an eyebrow curiously at him. “I still don’t really want to go though. Events like this are always a bit full-on and this is going to be even worse once everyone finds out I’m competing.”

“It’ll be okay, Ashy,” Laura said firmly as the transport finally rolled to a stop along one of the main streets. It was still relatively quiet for so early in the day but she could already see a cluster of photographers lingering by the entrance to one of the more popular gardens in the area - clearly hoping for a glimpse of a celebrity or person of interest out on a morning run - and Laura’s face darkened as she straightened up in her seat, taking in the worry tightening Ashton’s expression.

The Crown Prince looked frightened at the prospect of venturing out in public for the first time since he’d returned from the Boneflats War in disgrace - almost like the reality of it was finally starting to sink in - and Luke’s face softened as he reached out to nudge Ashton’s foot gently with his own. It broke the tension that had fallen; made the Crown Prince smile weakly as he unbuckled his seatbelt determinedly and reached to open the door.

The cries of his name started the moment they recognised him and Sierra grimaced as she slipped out of the transport first, squaring her shoulders against the onslaught of sound assaulting their ears. Ashton was visibly tense beneath his denim jacket as he followed her, bristling defensively when he processed the horrible things being shouted at him in an effort to gain a reaction.

The usual insults and disparaging remarks had been replaced by much nastier comments, and Luke paled when he saw the Crown Prince wincing as each barb hit home. The colour drained from Ashton as he recoiled at the cruel remarks, flinching when they ridiculed him for the way his magic had burnt itself away, leaving him weak and useless. His face crumpled when they declared that he was no better than a cold-blooded killer for the unnecessary deaths he had caused on the plains and Luke reached for the older boy’s shoulder unthinkingly, his palm a comforting weight as Ashton leant back into it with a shaky sigh.

“Back off!” Laura said sharply as she stepped in front of the Crown Prince, her stance undoubtedly protective as Sierra turned to make sure her new charge was coping with the verbal abuse he was receiving. Her tanned face fell at the shudders tearing through Ashton and she bit her lip when she saw the sparks tumbling from his fingertips, a clear warning sign of something worse to come.

The press were still being cruel and Laura stepped towards them angrily, apparently uncaring of the risk she was putting herself at in the face of her best friend’s pain.

“This is your Crown Prince and he deserves your respect!” she snapped, her kind eyes narrowed and cold with anger. “I don’t see you talking to other war veterans like this!”

“Well, the others didn’t wipe out half of their own army with friendly fire!” a sharp-tongued journalist retorted harshly before his smile darkened. “There’s a headline there, don’t you think? The Fire Prince with his friendly fire, slaughtering his own people out of sheer incompetency.”

The flames coiled white-hot around Ashton’s shaking fists as though on command and Luke stepped back sharply, his heart clenching unpleasantly in his chest at the panic flaring to life in the older boy’s eyes. Clearly, he still didn’t have proper control of his magic but Luke kept the worry off his face with difficulty. If worst came to worst, he trusted his own air abilities and Sierra’s ice magic to avoid any casualties but… fuck, he wasn’t stupid. He knew how awful this situation looked and he dreaded when the inevitable recordings were released on the comms channels later in the day.

It had been bad enough before the war, when people had simply tried to guess which Hemmings sibling the Crown Prince was dating or why he hadn’t attended a certain event… but now that they were trying to tear him to pieces because they didn’t want to focus on their own grief, things were about to become a hundred times worse.

“How timely,” the journalist murmured although there was a definite tinge of regret in his expression now. He clearly hadn’t realised that the Crown Prince’s magic was returning to him and the sudden silence that had fallen over the rabble of reporters was noticeable as they all finally began to realise that crowding Ashton while he was distressed enough to burst into flames wasn’t a very sensible idea.

“C’mon, Ash,” Luke murmured, his voice soft as his trembling hand returned timidly to the older boy’s slumped shoulder. “Don’t let them upset you. They’re not worth it.”

The flames flickered out in drifting coils of smoke and Luke exhaled softly as his arm slipped around Ashton’s waist, lending his friend silent strength when the Crown Prince leant against him wearily. Sierra was already looking for somewhere secluded they could go to give Ashton space to calm down and Laura looked calmer as she drifted closer to the boys, one hand rising to stroke the Crown Prince’s back soothingly as the trembles finally stopped tearing through him.

“The Fire Prince will be back at his glitzy parties soon enough,” the same journalist said spitefully as the first reporters began to trickle away. “Those months of recuperating haven’t made him smile more, have they?” There was an awkward buzz of laughter but it quickly died when Ashton straightened up, shrugging gently out of his friends’ hold before he strode closer, taking satisfaction in the way the press drew back fearfully.

“What regiment were _you_ in during the Boneflats War?” the Crown Prince asked the journalist in a tone of false interest, his lips curving into a cold smile when the older man shuffled uncomfortably, remaining stubbornly silent. “Oh, you didn’t enlist? How good of you to serve your country.” His hazel eyes flashed in the morning sunlight, revealing the horrible numbness that had unfurled there during the fighting, and the journalist shuddered before he could stop himself. Ashton stepped back, satisfied.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered before he turned away, taking in the visible relief on his companions’ faces. “Let’s get out of here, you guys,” he suggested, too tired to hide his exhaustion. “We have better things to do than listen to this crap.”

Ashton strode off in the opposite direction, his hands still clenched into fists as Laura hurried to catch up with him, shooting a smug look at the straggling reporters over her shoulder. Sierra followed the pair at a discrete distance, her expression grim although she managed a weak smile when Luke fell into step beside her, his hands buried in his pockets.

“You didn’t get burnt, did you?” she asked softly, glancing back to make sure the reporters had left and relaxing visibly when she saw that they were gone. Luke shook his head tiredly, his heart still aching in his chest as his pulse finally returned to normal.

“Nah, got out the way in time,” he mumbled, feeling bad for even mentioning his friend’s lapse of control. “I’m Luke, by the way,” he added suddenly, blushing a little. “That’s my sister Laura. I just realised we didn’t introduce ourselves back at the estate earlier. Sorry about that.”

Her face softened at his awkwardness and she shrugged easily, her step a little lighter as she glanced up at him, smiling like she didn’t mind in the slightest that he’d forgotten his manners.

“Oh,” she said suddenly, eyes widening a little. “There’s a pigeon on your shoulder.”

Luke snorted weakly, his eyes flickering towards the bird as his lips curled into an unconscious smile. It chirped at him in greeting and he reached towards it, a huff of laughter escaping him when it pecked his finger affectionately.

“Does that happen often?” Sierra asked, still eyeing the pigeon warily although some of her amusement bled away as she finally relaxed after the tension of their conflict with the reporters.

“Which part?” the younger boy countered. “The birds or Ash going to pieces?”

“Either,” Sierra replied, shrugging helplessly as her teeth sank into her bottom lip, the concern plain on her pretty face. The pigeon cooed softly and she frowned at it in surprise. “Are you controlling it, Luke?”

“Nope,” the younger boy said honestly, reaching up once more to gently stroke its plumage with his fingertip. “Birds have always been attracted by my air abilities. I can’t keep them away.” His blue eyes flickered automatically to his sister and the Crown Prince where they were wandering up ahead, and he sighed quietly when he realised that his friend’s new bodyguard was still waiting for an answer.

“Ash has panic attacks a lot these days and they usually manifest like that,” Luke said heavily, his shoulders slumping enough that the bird took off into the air, startled by the wave of sadness that had crashed over him. “He has done ever since the war. The attacks are getting more dangerous with his magic returning though.”

“I can imagine,” Sierra said quietly, her tone thoughtful as she scrutinised the Crown Prince silently, her expression sympathetic. “The war did a number on all of us.”

“Except me,” Luke said bitterly, his gaze dropping to the floor shamefully as he sloped along behind Laura and Ashton. “I was too young to help. I had to stay behind; let everyone fight the battle for me.” He jammed his lips together hard, forcing himself silent before anything else self-pitying could escape him. He didn’t know why he was revealing all of this to a complete stranger. He didn’t even know why she was still listening to him.

“I think the war did a number on you too, Luke,” Sierra murmured, her dark eyes growing sad when he finally met the older girl’s gaze. “You look like you’re raining inside.”

Luke’s lips parted but no sound came out as he stared down at her in shock, the unwanted prickle of tears making itself known as a lump rose in his throat. Laura turned around automatically, her fingers tangled with Ashton’s although her face fell when she saw how upset her little brother looked as Sierra bit her lip unhappily.

“The boys are sad, Sierra,” Laura declared as she approached them, wrapping an arm warmly around the Crown Prince’s waist before she drew Luke into a one-armed hug too. “That means we need milkshakes,” the fair-haired girl added, her tone solemn. “They always cheer up when we get milkshakes.”

“I’ll have to bear that in mind,” Sierra said, exchanging a rueful smile with Ashton although her face fell when Luke quickly averted his gaze. He found he couldn’t quite bring himself to look the older girl in the eye and it only became more awkward after the four of them had grabbed their favourite table in the milkshake place they’d always enjoyed visiting before the Boneflats War had begun.

Their conversation automatically returned to the Elevare as they sat together in the corner and Luke listened silently as he sipped his drink, no longer in the mood to contribute to the discussion. Laura and Ashton seemed fixated on the fact that the Tenebrans had supposedly arrived the night before, their words saturated with nerves and excitement, but Luke couldn’t relate to them right now. He felt too numb, the way he always did whenever he finally let himself recognise the deep ache he could feel inside him.

Luke felt strangely detached as he looked at his two closest friends, taking in the way they were leaning against each other as they laughed at some sarcastic remark Sierra had just made about the Tenebrans. Luke had been like that once, full of laughter and light, without the fear and his terrifying feelings for Niall plaguing him so painfully.

Ashton glanced up suddenly and sobered when he saw the younger boy’s pale face, clearly able to detect some hint of the turmoil Luke was trying to bury under his skin. The Crown Prince cocked his head to one side curiously and, when Luke managed an incredibly unconvincing smile, Ashton sighed as he reached across the table, his fingertips dancing briefly over the younger boy’s knuckles, soft as the breeze Luke loved so much.

“How’s your milkshake, Ash?” the younger boy asked softly, fighting for some normality so that the Crown Prince could enjoy his first trip out of the estate. “As good as you remembered?”

“Chocolate milk is _always_ good, Luke,” Ashton said but his expression was warmer now and he looked less anxious as a smile touched his lips.

For just a moment, when the sunlight caught his honey-coloured hair and his hazel eyes sparkled, he was still the golden boy that the nation of Claritas had adored so much. The image faded when the sun slipped behind a cloud; made his face look harder and colder, but the love was still there. It was buried now, hidden under hurt and betrayal for the people who had turned against him so quickly but, in time, Luke thought the Crown Prince might thaw again.

At least, he would if the Hemmings siblings had any say in the matter.

“Where shall we go after this?” Laura asked as she finished her milkshake, her fingers unfurling idly to reveal a daisy growing in her palm. She tucked it into Ashton’s curls and he snorted, the fondness in his eyes unmistakable as he shot the older girl a warm glance.

“I’m only keeping this in if you grow Luke a sunflower for his hair,” Ashton said, looking quite delighted with himself when the girls giggled and even Luke cracked a wan smile.

“I think a sunflower might be a bit heavy to wear in my hair, Ash,” the younger boy pointed out wryly, sticking his tongue out when the Crown Prince gave him an irritatingly radiant smile.

“You’ll never know until you try, Luke,” Ashton pointed out loftily before he paused, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth as realisation dawned on his face. Laura exchanged a look with her little brother, a faint smile curving her mouth as she watched the Crown Prince uncertainly.

“What are you thinking, Ashy?” she asked carefully, looking equal parts wary and excited.

“Everyone’s calling me the Fire Prince now, aren’t they?” Ashton said slowly, his fingertips rising to brush the daisy where it was tucked into his curls. “And, well… I have an idea.” He held his breath for a moment, smiling nervously at his three companions. “I thought I might dye my hair before the Opening Gala tomorrow night. Really give them all something to talk about.”

Ashton looked unusually confident as he straightened up in his seat, his lips twitching into a smirk as he took in the curiosity on Sierra’s face and the way the Hemmings siblings had exchanged grins.

“What colour were you thinking, Ashy?” Laura asked, her tone deceptively casual as her eyes sparkled with excitement.

The mischievous grin spread across Ashton’s face without his permission as he brushed his curls out of his face with a casual sweep of his hand. He was clearly determined to make his comeback with a bang and all his friends could do was wait on the sidelines, and hope that it wouldn’t be a literal explosion this time.

“I’m dyeing it red,” Ashton said, bold as anything. “Red as flame.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought :)


	4. War Paint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone!  
> I had a ridiculous amount of fun writing this chapter and I really hope you'll all enjoy it! <3  
> Thank you as always to Laura for motivating me to write!

**_Knew he was a killer,_ **

**_First time that I saw him._ **

_\- …Ready For It?, Taylor Swift_

 

The bathroom looked like a bloodbath when Laura was finished and Ashton grimaced at the hair dye splattering the porcelain. He hated making unnecessary work for the servants and he knew his parents would rightfully be irritated with him… although maybe they’d be angrier at what he’d done to his hair. He wasn’t supposed to make any long-lasting changes to his body without consulting them first because it might look bad in the press but… damnit, the nation already thought the Prince was terrible. A bit of hair dye couldn’t make things worse.

“We messed up my bathroom,” Ashton said meekly as the nerves fluttered in his stomach. His curls were still covered with a towel at the moment and he was dreading seeing how much the colour had taken. It didn't exactly help that the Opening Gala was only in a few hours either so if his hair looked horrendous, there wasn’t much he could do about it now. He just had to hope that it would all work out.

“This is art, Ashy,” Laura said firmly as she rubbed gently at a bit of hair dye staining his forehead with the pad of her thumb. “Art isn’t supposed to be neat.”

“I’m taking the towel off,” the Prince decided, even as his breath caught in anticipation. “Remember I love you, Laura, just in case this looks awful and I never speak to you again.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Laura teased as she tugged the towel free, tossing it towards the laundry basket as she watched her best friend fondly. “You know it’ll look good no matter what.”

Ashton let out the breath he’d been holding as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, his hazel eyes widening with pleasant surprise at the way the scarlet curls were tumbling down across his forehead. His dimples creased his cheeks when he smiled and Laura relaxed visibly, letting out a relieved giggle.

“I like it,” he said in disbelief, his eyes sparkling as he ran a hand through his damp hair hesitantly. The strands were startling bright as they slipped between his fingers and he couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across his face as the last of his tension slipped away. His best friend had done a brilliant job – apart from possibly staining some of his forehead too – and he was so grateful.

“You don’t have to sound so shocked!” Laura huffed but he would have to have been blind to miss the warmth in her expression as she failed to suppress a smile. “Finish your hair quickly before we start on your war paint, Ashy, okay? Then we can get into our pretty clothes.”

Ashton did as he’d been asked and, by the time he finally left the dye-splattered bathroom, Luke was lounging on the Prince’s bed in his shimmering pearl grey suit while Laura sat at the vanity, applying a final coat of blossom pink lipstick.

“I like the hair, Ash. You look like you’ve been attacked though,” Luke said as he eased his fingers ruefully through his own caramel-coloured locks, his blue eyes drifting thoughtfully over the stained t-shirt Ashton had been wearing in the bathroom. The dye looked like blood now and the Prince grimaced a little as he shrugged out of the ruined garment, his cheeks heating when Luke spluttered awkwardly and turned away.

“Sit here, Ashy,” Laura called, successfully breaking the tension that had fallen as she indicated the cushioned seat she’d just vacated. “We’ll do your war paint next, right? Then your suit… and _then_ some pretty flowers.” There was no question that Laura would be using her ability to create beautiful adornments for Ashton and Luke’s outfits. She often grew them little flowers that perfectly matched their clothes, to the point where it almost felt strange for the Prince to leave the estate without such a decoration now.

No one thought it out of the ordinary. In Claritas, it was expected that everyone dress up in their finery, and the more glimmering baubles, the better. The Claritans weren’t unassuming people and Ashton was sure he would have looked more out of place if he _hadn’t_ done his best to ensure his outfit was eye-catching.

He settled down in front of the mirror hesitantly, relieved when he barely felt any ache in his back at all thanks to Niall’s remarkable medi-tech. Laura leant against the vanity, careful not to crease the pastel-coloured dress she’d changed into for the Gala. The gown was beautiful, the long skirt light and floaty, and streaked in soft blues and pinks, the golden undertone reminiscent of a sunrise.

In the mirror, Ashton could see his suit lying ready on his bed beside Luke. At first glance, the material appeared to be an inky black but, upon closer inspection, it was almost iridescent in the light, revealing a rainbow buried just below the surface that reminded the Prince faintly of spilt gasoline.

“I thought gold would complement your suit best,” Laura said as she daubed the glitter liberally across the younger boy’s cheekbones. Ashton sensibly kept his eyes shut, relaxing further under her careful hands as she readied him for all of the cameras he would no doubt face tonight. “We’ll do your nails gold too, okay?” she added before she raised her voice a little, glancing over at her little brother. “You can have silver nails, Lu. I’ll do them for you after.”

She was true to her word and, as time went on, the Prince hid all of his vulnerabilities behind the mask Laura had constructed him. The older girl hadn't been kidding earlier when she'd called the glitter war paint. With every swipe of smoky eyeliner or pearly white flower she tucked into his vibrant curls, Ashton felt like he was wearing armour and that was only cemented when he finally slipped into his suit.

He gazed at himself in the full-length mirror silently, aware that he felt every bit as nervous as he had done that first day on the Boneflats, no matter how silly that sounded. It didn't seem to matter that his bulletproof vest had been replaced with silk or that his helmet had been traded for fiery red curls and hairspray.

His heart was still fighting to beat right out of his chest beneath the gleaming medal his father had insisted he wore to commemorate his tour in the Boneflats.

Ashton felt like a ghost now, dressed in the clothes of a boy who would never exist again.

He felt like the Prince he’d been before the war had destroyed him.

A knock on the door jarred him from his grim thoughts and he looked up automatically as Luke trotted over to answer it, his suit perfectly tailored to accentuate the elegant sweep of his long limbs. By the way his cheeks heated as he stammered a little at whoever was waiting outside, it could only have been Sierra and Ashton bit his lip as he watched the younger boy worriedly. Luke had seemed to get on well enough with the Prince’s new bodyguard at first but she had obviously managed to upset him somehow and Ashton hoped they’d be able to smooth things over. He wanted the people he cared about to be _happy_.

“Evening, Sierra,” Laura said cheerfully as she appeared beside her brother, her long fair hair gleaming as it cascaded down her back in gentle waves. “You look pretty tonight.”

The older girl smiled shyly as she glanced down at her outfit, taking in the short sparkly black dress she had donned beneath her ever-present leather jacket. Her hair was loose tonight, the colour of chocolate as it tumbled down around her shoulders. Her eyes twinkled when she took in Ashton’s freshly-dyed curls.

“Thank you, Laura,” Sierra said warmly as she smoothed her skirt. “This dress is my favourite because it has pockets. Y’know, if you need any chewing gum tonight, just hit me up. I’ve got like three packets with me.”

“I wish _my_ dress had pockets for chewing gum,” Laura pouted, making Luke roll his eyes as he clearly tried hard not to be awkward around the Prince’s bodyguard tonight.

“Your dress looks like a sunrise, tiny,” he pointed out smugly, his lips curving into a smirk when she scowled at the nickname. “You can’t have everything.”

“Shut up, lofty,” Laura retorted. “Good things come in small packages.”

“Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?” Luke said airily as he grinned down at her. “Your head barely reaches my shoulder.”

“I’ll bite your ankles if you keep on like this,” his sister vowed. “You know I'm scrappy.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement when Ashton made a big show of stepping between the pair of them, his fine suit shimmering in the light.

“Try not to kill each other before we get there, guys, okay?” he teased, smiling a little nervously. “There'll be enough veiled threats tonight I'm sure.” He caught Sierra's gaze for a moment, relaxing a little at the calm expression on her face as she silently reassured him that everything was under control. “We should leave now before they get into one of their famous fights, Fearless Protector. I don't want loads of mangled flower petals getting blown around my room again.”

Sierra snorted at the silly name she’d been given but she looked pleased with herself as she swept an arm towards the hallway outside, her purple-painted lips curving into a broad smile.

“Right this way then, Your Illustriousness,” she said playfully. “Your carriage awaits.”

*

He’d only been in Claritas for a full day and already Calum didn’t trust it. Everything was too fake; too bright and polished, like a little glitter would be enough to hide the cracks spreading ominously underneath.

The transport rolled to a smooth stop outside the Lumen Centre and Calum regarded it with wide eyes, surprised by how much bigger it was off the comms channels. Even the architecture was outlandish in Claritas and the Prince felt himself sneering just a little at the building’s awkward sloping appearance. One side of it started very low – no more than a single storey – but as it sprawled across the verdant grass, it soared up into the sunset, towering above a deep, crystal-clear lake. One wall of the building was made entirely from glass and the various lights inside the centre were reflected on the surface of the water outside, the sight strangely beautiful as the sun set.

The Lumen Centre was used to host a variety of events, from award shows to film premieres, and Calum had never truly believed he’d ever step foot here himself. He could see the awe reflected back at him on Mali and Michael’s faces when he glanced at them, and it made him feel immeasurably better, even as it sank in just how far away from home he really was. At least he didn’t have to go through this alone. A footman stepped forwards to open the car door and Calum stepped out carefully onto the pale gravel, expertly ignoring the flashing cameras and the shocked gasps as he waited for his loved ones to join him. In sharp contrast to the press, the footman didn’t react at all to the sight of Tenebran royalty standing before him and, if he was surprised by their unexpected appearance, he was far too professional to show it.

Calum’s sequinned suit was glimmering in the camera flashes and he shot the flashy material a baleful look, still uncertain as to how his sister had forced him into the flashy garment. It was probably as revenge after she’d heard him and Michael complaining about Claritan fashion on the jet but… damnit, the older boy wasn’t dressed up like some bejewelled clotheshorse! _Michael_ had been allowed to escape with simply well-tailored trousers, a white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and a charcoal grey blazer with tiny shards of opal stitched into the cuffs and lapel, glinting faintly in the approaching dusk.

Calum tried hard to appear calm and self-assured as he led the way into the building, marvelling at the plush carpets and the silk wall hangings. Everything was so much starker in Tenebris – _especially_ in the citadel – and he could hardly believe the Claritans spent so much money simply on making their surroundings beautiful.

The Lumen Centre felt too shiny and alien for the Prince to let his guard down; nothing at all like the dim, damp, cold passages of his home that he had grown so used to. Calum didn’t trust it here – not the smiling staff in their red waistcoats or the laughing guests; the clinking of glasses or the soft music wafting out to greet them from the big doors thrown open up ahead – and the hairs on the back of his neck refused to lie flat as the anxiety coiled in his veins.

Calum had never felt more like he was surrounded by predators.

He continued to hate the sequin-covered monstrosity he’d been forced into, at least until the three of them finally entered the main room where the Opening Gala was being held. Many of the guests were already present, all of them enveloped in glittering swathes of fabric encrusted with gemstones and precious metals; with gleaming ornamental weapons and elaborate headdresses, and lavish cloaks trailing on the polished wooden floor as they mingled together beneath the twinkling chandeliers.

It was like nothing the Prince had ever seen before and he immediately felt underdressed. Beside him, Michael looked like he wanted to crawl under a nearby table and hide until the night was over.

“Still smug that your outfit is so understated?” Calum murmured out of the corner of his mouth, nudging his best friend lightly with his elbow. Michael simply gawped at him helplessly and the Prince’s lips curved into a smirk. “Bet you regret not wearing a tie now – and hey, what do you know? I just remembered how much you teased me earlier for wearing something that sparkles. How much do you wish you were wearing a sequinned jacket right now?”

“Shut up,” Michael snapped, sounding vaguely strangled. One of the staff members was approaching them now, dressed in the tell-tale velvet waistcoat as she weaved between the guests, clearly intent on guiding the newest arrivals to their table.

“You should’ve taken my advice when I suggested wearing a pretty ball gown,” Calum said innocently and Michael reached to elbow his best friend back, the movement obvious and clumsy enough that the Prince snickered as he stepped smartly aside.

“Piss off, Princess,” Michael scowled, just as Mali shot them both a death glare and harshly whispered: “Stop behaving like children!”

Of all of them, the eldest Hood sibling was the only one who had truly come to the Gala prepared. She fit in with the other guests seamlessly, the easy confidence rolling off her in waves as she followed the staff member to their assigned table near the stage. The boys trailed behind her like ducklings, their eyes wide as they took in the crowd of nobles, celebrities, and famous politicians from both nations surrounding them.

Calum had to make a conscious effort not to stand on his sister’s gown as she strode across the polished wood in front of him. Her dress was made from a beautiful ruby-coloured silk that made her skin glow, the cloth plated with leaf-shaped scales of reddish gold and copper, the metal doubling up as decoration and armour. Her plentiful jewellery was rose gold plating steel, pretty to look at but more than tough enough to act as a weapon if the wolves surrounding them proved hungry.

The dress was tight-fitting and she turned many heads as they finally reached their table, the long split in her skirt revealing an expanse of tanned skin as she came to a stop behind her chair, back straight and head held high as the attention she was attracting rolled off her as harmlessly as raindrops.

A dark curl had already escaped from the elaborate updo she'd spent almost an hour creating but even that managed to look artful as she sank down gratefully into the seat when it was pulled out for her. Her painted face was sculpted into a carefully serene smile as she crossed one leg casually over the other, revealing the intricately-fastened ribbons holding her heels in place.

A waiter appeared carrying a tray of drinks and Calum almost slopped his all over himself in his haste to accept a glass. He was sure it would be alcoholic – after all, they weren’t in Tenebris anymore – and he was desperate for anything that might calm his nerves a little. A tiny voice in his head that sounded a lot like Mali warned him against getting drunk though and he forced himself to sip the drink slowly as he sank back in his seat, simply relieved that he hadn’t stumbled over any celebrities on his terrifying walk across the crowded room.

Most of the tables around them were already teeming with people but there was one nearby that was still empty. Calum’s pulse raced when he realised that this was very likely to have been kept aside for his competitor and his stomach twisted unpleasantly as he processed the fact that he was about to be faced with the boy he’d been sworn to murder.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the room suddenly fell silent as the Claritan Prince arrived with his entourage. The tension in the room became abruptly suffocating but Ashton showed no signs of being bothered by it at all. He cut through the sea of staring faces with all the confidence of the King he’d been born to be, his high cheekbones sparkling with glitter under the lights, his newly dyed hair a stunning crimson. His suit was tailored perfectly to his muscular form, his movements slick as an oil spill.

Calum’s mouth had gone dry.

“Cal, it’s him!” Michael breathed excitedly, his comment needless as he watched the Crown Prince approaching with wide green eyes. Calum swallowed audibly beside his best friend, his lips parting just a little when Ashton drew closer, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room, lest he lose his nerve.

The Prince was accompanied by three companions, all of them dressed to the teeth. A small girl in a leather jacket walked close behind him, an easy smirk curving her lips as she sauntered along behind Ashton, dark hair tumbling around her shoulders as she watched the other guests cautiously. She was flanked by two pale fair-haired siblings, both wearing flowers in their hair as they watched over the Prince protectively, their blue eyes fiercely loving.

The girl was pretty, her makeup painstakingly coordinated with the beautiful dress she’d donned. Mali watched her appreciatively as she breezed past and Calum suppressed his smile as his gaze flickered to the pretty girl’s brother beside her.

His caramel-coloured curls were strewn with pale blue flowers, too immaculate not to have been the product of a powerful magical ability. The boy was tall and broad but something about the uncertainty of the way he carried himself made him look years younger, and that wasn’t helped by the profound sadness glistening in his ocean-blue eyes as they flickered unhappily towards the Prince.

Absently, Calum wondered if there was unfinished business between the pair and found that he didn’t like that thought very much.

Ashton was much closer now - near enough for Calum to see the smoky eyeliner he was wearing and the golden varnish painted on his nails - and the fearlessness the Crown Prince was fighting to exude would have been perfect if he’d been able to keep his fingers from trembling. It made the older boy seem more human somehow - less like a murderer who deserved retribution and more like someone who needed to be taken care of - and Calum’s heart ached as he shakily raised his glass, downing the rest of his drink unthinkingly as the alcohol burnt his throat.

Ashton met his gaze as the four newcomers finally reached their table and Calum stared back at him silently, taking in the mournful hazel eyes and the older boy’s heart-shaped mouth before the Crown Prince turned away, cheeks heating. The moment was broken and Calum was left to slump back in his seat silently, his pulse roaring in his ears as he fought to keep his expression unreadable.

He had no idea what had just happened but he knew it could mean nothing good.

*

The Tenebran Prince was watching him.

Ashton had been sitting at the table for almost twenty minutes now and Calum had barely looked away, his chocolate brown eyes burning as he stared at his competitor over the rim of his glass. The younger boy’s gaze was making Ashton blush and he hated so much how fragile he’d become since the war; hated the fact that even someone simply watching him was enough to make him feel raw as he dwelled on everything they could have been thinking about him… how dangerous or useless he was, maybe, or the unfairness of him surviving the end of the Boneflats War when so many had lost their lives because of his actions.

It felt like the blood would never be washed from his hands and Ashton pressed his lips together hard as he sat there rigidly under the sparkling chandeliers, determined not to lose control now. It had taken a long time for the conversation to pick up again after he’d made his entrance and he refused to give the other guests a reason to judge him tonight. They’d condemned him enough already.

“That boy’s watching you,” Luke said accusingly and, before Ashton could wearily point out that he’d spotted that the moment they entered the room, he quickly realised that his friend wasn’t talking about his staring contest with the Tenebran Prince. He was talking about his sister and the fierce-looking boy with the bleached blond hair instead.

“Really?” Laura asked, her blue eyes flickering towards her admirer shyly before she fussed with her hair, growing another beautiful bloom to tuck into the long locks. “Did I smudge my makeup? Is he staring because I look -”

“Beautiful,” Luke interjected, softening a little although he shot the other table a distrustful look. He reached out gently, his palm coming to rest protectively over his older sister’s as he smiled at her faintly. “You’re always beautiful, tiny.”

Ashton’s lips curved up softly at the fondness on Laura’s face and he looked away, his hazel gaze dropping to the drink he’d been given as he tried to relax in an effort to gain at least _some_ enjoyment from his first official outing since the war. The announcement of the champions would be taking place in around half an hour - if the program for the evening was to be believed anyway - and Ashton wanted to appreciate the relative calm he could feel now because he knew, the very moment his name was announced, that his world would change irrevocably once more.

The press would never let him have a moment of peace again.

He sighed as he looked up, his fingers curling loosely around his glass as he took a sip of the fruity liquid, his tongue darting out to sweep over the sugar-rimmed glass. He almost choked on his drink when he saw Calum staring at him with his lips slightly parted, a blush heating the younger boy’s cheeks as he swallowed reflexively, his gaze flickering down to Ashton’s mouth.

“Oh,” the older boy breathed, his eyes widening a little as he set his glass down on the table unsteadily, his heart racing in his chest. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth unthinkingly, savouring the taste of the sugar. He watched in disbelief as Calum’s shaking hand sent the remnants of his drink spilling across the table and, when the Tenebran Prince swiftly used his water abilities to keep the liquid from ruining anyone’s clothes, Ashton didn’t even remember to feel wariness the way he usually did around such magic.

He was too captivated by the way Calum’s gaze felt on his skin, almost tangible as the younger boy watched him, both of them blushing now. Ashton felt dizzy with it but he forced himself to inhale deeply, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he deliberately dropped his hazel gaze, playing with the ice cubes slowly melting in his glass.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen - _could_ anything even happen, given the situation they were about to find themselves in? - but he knew he liked the feeling of Calum watching him. He thought he might quite like Calum to do some _other_ things too but, before Ashton could truly spiral down that dangerous path in a crowded room, his bodyguard decided to take pity on him.

“Hey, Your Illustriousness,” Sierra murmured wryly as she subtly caught his attention. Ashton dragged his eyes away from Calum as the blush in his cheeks deepened, resisting the urge to bury his flaming face in his hands when Sierra simply raised an eyebrow curiously. “Aren’t your parents coming to this shindig tonight?”

“They can’t,” Ashton said with a weak shrug, relieved that the topic of conversation had successfully taken care of his… problem. “There’s a council meeting tonight to discuss some trade deal gone wrong. They couldn’t miss it.” The older girl was watching him sympathetically now and Ashton folded his arms loosely across his chest, not liking how vulnerable it made him feel. “Doesn’t matter anyway,” he mumbled, smirking slightly as he forced himself not to look back at Calum. “I’m sure if I trip over when they call my name out, they’ll definitely get to witness the disaster over the comms channels.”

“Sure they will,” Sierra grinned, dark eyes sparkling and irritatingly _knowing_ as she took in the lingering blush on the younger boy’s cheeks. “Videos of that would circulate for weeks, Ash. Better try not to stumble, eh?”

“Thanks for your help,” he said sourly, even as the smile fought its way across his lips. “I thought Laura and Luke were bad enough alone but now there’s three of you to taunt me! I’ll never live anything down again.”

Ashton whiled away his last minutes of peace with his best friends, giggling at Laura’s attempts to grow enough daisies to make a chain taller than her brother. It was funny to watch and the dimples creased the Prince’s cheeks enough that his face almost ached with how much he was smiling. He saw his own fondness reflected back at him in Sierra’s eyes and he was incredibly glad that she was so easy to get along with. He could see himself being friends with her for a very long time.

“Stop blowing the daisies off the table!” Laura hissed at her brother when he subtly flicked his fingers, the small gust of wind he had summoned sending the flowers fluttering up into the air. “You’re such a pain!”

“Well, you’re showing off,” Luke said lightly, shrugging like it made perfect sense. “Plus, my ability doesn’t make anything pretty so I’m very jealous.”

“Every bird wants to be your friend, lofty!” Laura pointed out, clearly trying not to laugh as her eyes sparkled. “Don’t you remember that day at the wildlife park where _all_ of the flamingos wanted to love you? That’s so much better than flowers!”

“Are they serious?” Sierra asked, her words a little muffled behind her hands as she tried hard to keep herself from giggling. Ashton rolled his eyes fondly.

“Yep,” he said in a long-suffering voice. “In a second, Luke will bring up the fact that - at the age of seven - Laura got into a disagreement with our science teacher about a certain type of sapling. This poor guy made the mistake of telling her she was wrong in front of everyone so, to prove a point, she grew this colossal tree right in the middle of the classroom and the entire ceiling collapsed on us. It was absolutely magical.”

“Wow,” Sierra murmured, apparently impressed. “Remind me never to piss Laura off.”

“- and anyway, your ability is still better than mine!” Luke continued sulkily, unaware of the fact that Ashton and Sierra were laughing at them. “Don’t you remember that time when you were seven with the tree, tiny?! The worst I could do at school was blow all of the test papers off the desks!”

“As if you would’ve done that!” Laura argued but she was positively beaming now. “You’re the biggest goody-goody I know!”

Before their argument could descend into chaos - probably with one or both of them trying to prove just how much property damage they could cause with their abilities - the lights over the tables dimmed as a man strode out onto the stage.

He was dressed in quite possibly the most ridiculous suit Ashton had ever seen.

The ensemble was covered in tiny crystals of every colour, creating a veritable rainbow that shimmered under the lights as its wearer danced out into the centre of the stage, his arms spread in greeting.

“Good evening, everybody!” the man called excitedly, his voice amplified by the microphone clipped to his sparkling white shirt. For the first time, Ashton noticed just how many cameras there were pointing up at the stage and he swallowed hard in the semi-darkness as the nerves began to make themselves known once more. “What an exciting night this is! I’m sure you all know why we’re gathered here today but just in case anyone stumbled in here off the street and ended up quite lost -” He paused for the polite titters of laughter he received before continuing. “- let me just explain what tonight is all about for the people watching us at home.”

His green eyes were glittering with excitement, his face magnified on the huge comms screen stretching across the wall behind him, displaying the same footage that was being broadcast live across Cerasus.

“Welcome to the Opening Gala of the Elevare!” the man said, smiling winningly into the cameras. “My name is Harry Styles, comms personality and rising star of the music world.” He received a bigger laugh then although, privately, Ashton wasn’t sure it was intended to be _kind_. Harry paid it no mind though, simply smiling brighter into the camera as the spotlight shone down on him. “Tonight at the Gala - in the next few minutes in fact! - I will have the pleasure of announcing the Claritan and Tenebran champions who will be competing against each other for glory in this esteemed event… but first, a commercial break.”

Ashton barely had time to roll his eyes at how blatantly mercenary the Elevare’s sponsors were when a member of staff appeared beside his seat, tapping him lightly on the shoulder as she leant in.

“You’re to come with me, Your Majesty,” she said softly. “We need you backstage when your name is announced.” Her gaze flickered towards where Sierra had started to rise and she shook her head apologetically. “Sorry,” the woman added sincerely. “Only you, Your Majesty.”

“Right,” Ashton mumbled, his chest tightening a little as he rose shakily, his eyes flickering frantically towards his friends. Sierra reached out to squeeze his hand and Luke gave him a hesitant smile as Laura leant over to press a daisy gently into his hand.

“For luck,” she whispered, the pride on her face impossible to miss. “You’ve got this, Ashy.”

“Thanks,” Ashton smiled, taking a deep breath as he turned to face the member of staff still waiting for him. “I’m ready. Please lead the way.”

“Of course,” she said politely. “Follow me, Your Majesty.”

As she weaved quickly between the tables, he glanced across the shadowy room and spotted Calum rising too, ducking his head to murmur goodbye to his companions. The Tenebran Prince cut an impressive figure as he momentarily passed in front of the screen, and Ashton pressed his lips together hard when he took in how tall and muscular Calum looked as he followed his own member of staff out of sight.

Ashton rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he slipped through a door being held open for him, aware that the embarrassed flush was spreading down his throat. With his newly-dyed red hair, he’d look like a tomato if he kept this up and that definitely wasn’t how he wanted to appear on camera. He needed to appear cool and collected, the way he should have been all along.

The Crown Prince glanced down at the daisy lying in his palm and took a deep, calming breath.

The fire in his veins was sluggish tonight and, for once, Ashton was glad that his powers seemed to fluctuate so much since the surge on the Boneflats. The last thing he wanted to do was explode again during a live broadcast to a sickening number of people.

He could hear Harry’s voice now, rising with excitement and glee as he informed the audience that the champions were about to be announced.

Ashton tucked the daisy into the breast pocket of his iridescent suit, right over his racing heart.

He would be fine. He could do this.

He’d survived so much worse before.

*

Calum had never seen anyone as flamboyant as Harry Styles before and he couldn’t quite tear his disbelieving gaze away from the small comms unit mounted on the wall nearby. He’d been abandoned momentarily in an empty brightly-lit corridor, filled with nothing but the screen broadcasting the Opening Gala, a number of closed doors, a wilting potted plant, and a water cooler, the contents of which did go some small way to soothing his frayed nerves.

Beneath the glaring lights, Calum’s heart felt like it was trying to beat right out of his chest. His eyes were locked on the screen as Harry pranced under the lights, briefly explaining the updated rules of the tournament now that the scrolls had been rediscovered. He learnt that each new challenge would only be announced after the completion of the previous task, so as to keep the public interested while ensuring that the champions only had a limited amount of time to prepare.

Calum wasn’t sure how fair that was but he knew there was no point protesting. The powers that be wanted good comms broadcasts and as much profit as they could make from a tournament designed to end the war between their two nations. Nobody gave a damn how daunted and uneasy Calum felt at the way the Elevare was unfolding… and especially not his father, who had arranged for him to be sent here in the first place; who hadn’t even bothered to come to Claritas to support him.

The sudden flare of anger the Prince felt was enough to send the water in the cooler bubbling violently behind him and he grimaced, his stress only worsening when one of the doors nearby opened and a familiar figure stumbled into the harsh lights of the corridor.

Ashton’s hair looked even brighter this close up, the curls a striking blood-red as he leant one shoulder against the wall, a heavy sigh escaping him. He stood with his back to the Tenebran Prince, apparently unaware that the younger boy was even standing there, and Calum took just a little too much pleasure in causing the water in the cooler to churn loudly enough that Ashton spun round in alarm, his pretty eyes wide with shock. The smoky liner edging them was subtle, just visible enough that it made the hazel pop in the glaring lights of the bulbs.

Calum’s heart skipped a beat when Ashton held his gaze, the older boy’s expression undecipherable for a few moments before he frowned slightly at the shameless display of Calum’s water abilities.

“Way to scare a guy,” Ashton muttered irritably as he folded his arms defensively across his broad chest. “You could’ve just said hello…”

“You fought in the war,” Calum pointed out bluntly, his dark eyes still locked on the older boy’s handsome face, almost like he couldn’t look away. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little water.”

“Stop it,” Ashton said heavily as his hands curled into loose fists, the golden nails momentarily hidden from view when they bit into his palms. “I’m not going to argue with you. I don’t even want to _be_ here.”

The older boy was almost baring his teeth now and Calum wasn't sure why he’d thought bating such a dangerous individual was a good idea except… fuck, Ashton looked even prettier when he was angry, cheeks flushing pink under the glitter, hazel eyes twinkling beneath the lights.

Calum was enraptured.

“Too much of an angel to start a fight with me?” he murmured as his teeth sank into his bottom lip. Ashton watched the movement automatically, blushing hotter, and Calum smirked before he could think better of it. “I bet you’re not as righteous as you like to pretend.”

Ashton clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as the temperature in the corridor rose. Calum’s smile tightened just a little as he drifted closer to the water cooler, making sure its contents were within easy reach should he need to defend himself, even though this tension was his fault to start with.

He wasn’t sure why he was trying so hard to enrage Ashton like this… except, well, maybe that wasn’t true. His father’s threatening words kept circling in his mind and he knew he wouldn’t have a hope in hell of achieving them if he was this soft for the Claritan Prince. Calum needed to make them hate each other; needed to remind himself of all the reasons why he was supposed to _loathe_ Ashton... but he couldn’t stop himself from looking at the older boy’s lips.

“You know what I’ve done,” Ashton said coldly, even as his eyes gleamed damply in the bright lights. “I can see it in your face… so don’t call me fucking ‘ _angel_ ’, Calum. I can assure you that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

The younger boy watched him curiously, his heart fluttering at the way his name sounded in Ashton’s mouth. There was a definite sheen of tears in his hazel eyes and Calum felt guilty for a moment, taking in the little white flowers woven through the older boy’s hair as he looked up at the Tenebran Prince defiantly.

“Well, nobody’s perfect, Ashton,” Calum said, holding the Crown Prince’s gaze as steadily as he could manage when his heart was fluttering so pathetically in his chest. “Even angels fall.”

“Just cut the crap,” Ashton muttered, looking down at the floor. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“That’s a bold assumption to make,” Calum pointed out, smirking weakly. “I might be the smartest person you’ve ever met, angel.”

Ashton rolled his pretty hazel eyes scornfully, taking a measured step closer - to kiss him or hit him, Calum wasn’t sure - when the stage door nearby opened to reveal a staff member grasping a clipboard. She beckoned the pair over, gesturing for them both to be quiet as she led them swiftly onto the wings of the stage where they were still hidden from sight of the audience.

“- and now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” Harry was proclaiming dramatically as he opened a golden envelope in his hands. “It’s time to announce the champions of the first Elevare in a century!”

The staff member had disappeared now, leaving Calum and Ashton standing alone in the shadows. A drum roll sounded and the Tenebran Prince grimaced as his heart began to race unpleasantly in his chest. The older boy looked frightened beside him now and Calum reached for his hand unthinkingly, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Ashton gasped at the unexpected contact and Calum’s breath caught in his chest when the Claritan Prince gripped his hand tighter, almost like he was afraid to let go. Their eyes met and Calum felt a lot like he’d just been struck with one of Michael’s lightning bolts because… fuck, there was no way he could kill Ashton. It didn’t matter that this was the boy who had murdered his uncle Thomas because… because he was _smiling_ at the younger boy now and his hazel eyes were glitter-soft, and Calum couldn’t do it. He _couldn’t_.

There was nothing on all of Cerasus that could persuade him to hurt the Crown Prince; not even his father’s threats.

“Here goes nothing,” Ashton murmured when Harry read their names out and the room went into uproar.

Calum laughed softly, his chocolate brown eyes crinkling through the darkness.

“I think this is going to be fun, angel,” he said.

That time, the older boy didn’t admonish him.

In fact, as the Claritan Prince led the way out onto the stage to a blinding riot of camera flashes, Calum thought he glimpsed Ashton smiling.

*

Michael was possibly a little bit drunk. The alcohol had burned away his nervousness and the threat of the press had faded to little more than a passing worry now, fluttering on the fringes of his consciousness.

The opals glittering on his blazer looked so pretty in the dim light and Michael brushed them gently with his fingertips. His mother had always worn an opal necklace and he was glad he got to carry this part of her with him now, when he'd travelled so far away from home… but he couldn't deny that he was already enjoying his time in Claritas.

No one would judge him here if he wanted to wear something sparkly or brightly-coloured to reflect the lightning crackling under his pale skin. He liked the fact that he could drink alcohol legally here too since it was something he'd always wanted to try - especially since it was banned in Tenebris - and that thought was at the forefront of his mind as he threw back the last of his drink, wincing at the burn.

“Slow down, Mike,” Mali murmured, her eyes still locked on the stage where her little brother and the Claritan Prince were standing before the staring crowd. “You'll make yourself sick.”

“You don't know that!” Michael disagreed vehemently, wondering if his flaming cheeks were as red as they felt. “You're not allowed to drink either.”

“I've drank with Ashley before,” the older girl said quietly, her eyes dropping to one of the rose gold bracelets encircling her wrist as she manipulated it with a careful twirl of her fingers, twisting it into a beautiful vine instead. “Her brother used to sneak in wine before she left…” She faltered, her expression growing pained. “I don't want to talk about this anymore,” she muttered, her tone too sad to be sharp. “Pay attention, Mikey. They're about to sign their names on the contract.”

Michael straightened up in his seat with difficulty, making a silent vow to follow the older girl's advice and refrain from over-indulging on further alcohol, at least until after the feast.

Mali was right though. Calum and Ashton were standing on either side of Harry now, their expressions apprehensive as they peered at the scroll that had been unfurled, suspended in mid-air in front of them. It was ridiculously theatrical and Michael might have been impressed if his expression hadn't suddenly darkened at the sight of the wicked blade Harry had just withdrawn from his glitzy suit.

“If he goes near Cal with that thing, I'm electrocuting him,” Michael said fiercely, jumping a little when Mali lay a soothing hand on his wrist.

“You're like an overprotective mama bear,” she said fondly, her eyes warm. “They have to sign their names in blood, Mikey, remember? This is a very old tournament and some of the rules are unavoidable, even grisly ones like that.”

“But why blood?” Michael mumbled, his cheeks definitely growing hotter as he swayed dizzily.

“Because it's binding,” Mali replied, looking a little tense now as she glanced up in time to see Ashton wincing as he closed his fist around the blade before he pressed the quill against the wound. “The Elevare’s magic is ridiculously powerful, Mikey. That's why it's impossible for a champion to quit the tournament once it's begun. They can't leave once they've signed their name on the contract.”

Michael bit his bottom lip painfully hard as he watched Ashton signing his name on the scroll, the Claritan Prince’s forehead creasing as the blood rolled unpleasantly down his wrist. Witnessing that was the moment when the dangerous reality of the situation finally sank in and Michael’s heart began to race with fear.

Historically, the tournament had always demanded blood and, no matter how much everyone insisted that the Elevare had been modernised to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, some magic was too powerful to break. What if the old magic won out?

When Calum grimly stepped forwards to sign his name, Mali gripped Michael's hand tightly enough that it ached as the camera flashes became blinding. The pair exchanged a frightened look and the older girl’s lips pressed together tightly as she struggled to keep her emotions hidden. Her dark eyes flickered towards the nearby cameras warily and Michael bristled when he realised that their reactions were undoubtedly being recorded for the comms channels… which meant that all of Tenebris had just witnessed the boy they loved to hate so much looking so frightened that he might be about to throw up.

Now that Michael thought about it, he sort of _did_ feel sick actually. Maybe he wasn’t going to drink any more alcohol tonight after all. Maybe he’d just stick to water instead.

“Why do I feel like this isn’t going to end well?” Mali murmured, her brow creasing as she watched her little brother shaking hands with his competitor. The two boys lingered together onstage, their fingers entwined as they exchanged a long look that had Mali’s eyebrows rising rapidly. Michael was too tipsy to process what it meant now. He just wanted to get away from the cameras pointed at his face; the same damn cameras that had been following him around ever since the anniversary of his parents’ murders several weeks before.

The two Princes were ushered off stage, already being led away towards the first press conference of what was likely to be many, and Michael watched curiously as the dark-haired girl who had accompanied Ashton followed them at a fast pace, her expression determined. That left the two fair-haired siblings sitting alone at the table and, after a moment of drunken consideration, Michael decided that the best course of action was definitely to go and introduce himself.

“Mikey? Where are you going?” Mali asked, rising too as she watched the boy who had long-since felt like a brother to her stumble off through the guests. The large screen was already displaying a brightly-lit area where the press conference was taking place and, as the lights in the main room slowly returned to full power and cast Michael’s shadow across the polished floor like ink, the Princes’ faces filled the screen as they waited to answer the reporters’ questions.

“What about the Elevare are you most nervous for?” a journalist asked and Michael glanced up at the screen as he sidestepped a minor celebrity wearing more violet-coloured feathers than he’d ever seen in one place before. Calum forced an awkward laugh for the benefit of the audience but was saved from trying to think of an answer when the Claritan Prince cheerfully offered: “Well, I can’t swim so I’m hoping none of the challenges will be water-based!” Calum looked scandalised upon hearing this, presumably because of his abilities, and Ashton giggled, stunning most of the Gala’s guests into silence.

From what Michael had learnt during his research, the Crown Prince of Claritas wasn’t one to offer his emotions easily and, even in the pictures of the older boy grinning that Calum and Michael had seen on the jet, the smile had never touched Ashton’s eyes. There was nothing reserved about him now though, even despite the horde of journalists currently picking at him like vultures, because his dimples were creasing his cheeks and his hazel eyes were crinkling endearingly.

“He should smile more,” Michael said smartly as he came to a stop at the siblings’ table, instead of saying something reasonable like ‘ _Hello_ ’ or ‘ _It’s nice to meet you_ ’. Both of them looked up at him in surprise and Michael decided to make it worse. “Ashton,” he clarified, shrugging casually. “He should smile more. He looks a lot more likeable when he smiles.”

The blonde girl’s eyebrows lowered dangerously as she watched him, tilting her head to the side silently like she was daring the stranger to continue. Her brother had less restraint and his pale cheeks flamed with blood as he straightened up in his seat, his piercing blue eyes flashing angrily. He fixed Michael with a very dirty look that didn’t _quite_ have the intended effect thanks to the ridiculous number of flowers that had been lovingly tucked into his caramel-coloured curls.

“Well, did you ever consider that maybe Ash doesn’t have a whole lot to smile about?” the younger boy asked coldly, his palms flattening on the tablecloth as a breeze tousled his hair. Michael wasn’t sure where the wind was coming from - maybe one of the glass doors had been thrown open - but he shivered a little as he frowned down at the younger boy, watching when those blue, _blue_ eyes flickered towards the screen where Ashton’s face was momentarily displayed as he answered another question.

“Do you fancy him?” Michael asked. The words left him before he could think better of them and he bit his lip when the younger boy’s face immediately crumpled. Even his shimmering grey suit was rippling now as the breeze twisted around him and Michael took a stumbling step backwards, more drunk than he’d realised. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

“What did you just say to him?!” the blonde girl demanded, her tone disbelieving as she rose sharply. Her dress stirred around her as she got to her feet and he looked down at the garment unthinkingly, taking in the perfect flowers adorning her skirt and the little crystals glittering on the bodice. “Hey, you creep!” she snapped suddenly as her face flushed an angry red. “My eyes are up here!”

“Sorry, your dress is just really pretty. We don’t have stuff like that back home.” Michael’s frown deepened, jaw slackening and lips parting like he was thinking hard before he remembered the point he’d been about to make. “Oh yeah,” he mumbled, pointing an accusatory finger at the younger boy while Mali hurried over as fast as her high heels would allow. “You’re really defensive, buttercup. I figured maybe it was because you wanted to make out with him or something.”

“Michael!” Mali hissed as she strode up behind him with a face like thunder. “ _Shut. Up._ ”

“Is this delightful guest a friend of yours?” the blonde girl asked frostily, her painted lips pressed together as she shot an unhappy glance towards her brother’s downcast expression. “Because if he is, I’d really appreciate you taking him far, _far_ away from us.”

“I’m so sorry about this,” Mali said sincerely, shooting Michael death glares when he squared his jaw at her belligerently. “He’s never like this. I think maybe he’s had a bit too much to drink but I’ll take him back to our table now and -”

“Don’t apologise for me, Mali!” Michael said sulkily. “They’re just grouchy because I said buttercup over there probably wanted to sleep with Ashton!”

“Stop it, Mike!” Mali gasped, looking nothing short of appalled as she made a silent vow never to let him drink alcohol ever again.

Michael was so busy glaring at her that he didn’t even see the blonde girl moving before the contents of her glass rained down over him, plastering his bleached blond hair to his skull as he spluttered indignantly.

There was a moment of absolute silence - accompanied by a sudden worrying flurry of camera flashes - before Michael swayed, gripping the edge of the table hard as his brain finally caught up with his mouth.

“Shit, sorry,” he blurted out stupidly, blinking hard as some of the alcohol dripped into one of his emerald green eyes. Mali and the two fair-haired siblings were staring at him in disbelief now and he blushed, trying to fight the urge to bluster defensively since there was no doubt at all that he was in the wrong here. “I’m really sorry,” he repeated, rapidly becoming mortified. “I think I might be, like, way more drunk than I thought I was? Also, I don’t have much of a filter anyway and now I’ve drank alcohol for the first time.” He grimaced as his stomach twisted unpleasantly. “Is there somewhere to be sick here?” he added weakly. “I think I might be sick.”

The blonde girl groaned, shooting a pleading glance at her brother which was unfortunately ignored when he harrumphed indignantly and turned away, his arms folded tightly over his broad chest. Mali bit her lip anxiously as she twisted one of her dark curls around her finger, her eyes flickering around the room helplessly.

“I’ve never been here before,” she admitted, her tone undeniably apologetic. “I don’t know where the bathrooms are.”

“Oh, for goodness sake!” the blonde girl said heavily as she unwillingly circled the table, her fair hair floating around her shoulders as she fixed Michael with a hard look. “I’ve been here before. Come with me and I’ll show you the way.”

“Thank you,” Michael said meekly, falling into step beside her sheepishly as she led the way back through the crowd towards the silk-hung corridor they’d entered through. Behind them, Mali immediately began to apologise to the younger boy for her friend’s behaviour and Michael’s shoulders slumped guiltily.

“Why’d you call Luke ‘buttercup’?” the blonde girl asked suddenly, her tone more confused than angry now. Michael shrugged awkwardly, pouting a little at how sticky his shirt felt where the liquid was seeping through into the material. The guests around them were blatantly staring as he passed and his shoulders tensed as he squelched along beside the older girl.

“Your brother has blond hair,” Michael said, several moments too late as his drunken brain struggled to keep up. “Couldn’t think of anything else. It was very spur of the moment.” His pout deepened as he shot the pretty girl a sorrowful look. “This stings my eyes,” he objected and she sighed softly, looking exhausted now.

“Well, you deserved it,” she said but the heat had gone from her words now. “Don’t bring that up again, okay? Luke’s already feeling bad enough about their break-up. He doesn’t need you rubbing salt in the wound.”

“I was only joking,” Michael mumbled, unable to meet her gaze when her blue eyes flickered to his face. “I didn’t even know they’d dated. I just wanted a reaction.” His blush returned in full-force as he regretfully recalled another embarrassing moment which he definitely needed to apologise for. “I promise I really wasn’t staring at your boobs earlier either,” he added earnestly. “Not that I wouldn’t because I’m sure they’re amazing but… well, I wasn’t. Your dress really _is_ pretty. Do you think my suit is pretty? I chose one with opals. I love opals.”

He jammed his lips together hard before he could start talking about his mother and the blonde girl watched him curiously, her eyes a lot softer now as her mouth curved into an unwilling smile.

“Your suit looks great,” she said kindly. “The opals are a very nice touch.”

Michael beamed at her, still swaying a little drunkenly as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“What drink is this?” he asked suddenly. “It tastes good.”

The girl giggled before she could stop herself.

“It’s sparkling wine,” she told him, rolling her eyes with something that was _almost_ fondness as they finally stepped out into the cooler air of the corridor “Your name’s Michael, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling crookedly at her. “What’s yours, pretty blonde girl?”

“I’m Laura,” she said as the smile fought its way across her lips. “Laura Hemmings.” She hesitated, giving him a sympathetic look as a trickle of red wine dripped down from his hairline. “I’m sorry I threw my drink in your face,” she said awkwardly.

“That’s okay,” Michael said honestly as he gave an easy shrug. “At least we’re talking now.” He smiled as the blush heated his cheeks. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all night.”

*

The press conference seemed to take forever but it wasn’t as bad as Ashton had initially feared. A healer had fixed up the cut on his palm before he’d been forced out in front of the cameras and another drink had been pressed into his hand which was definitely a positive. It helped having Calum beside him too, with his surprisingly sharp sense of humour and pretty eyes, and Ashton was glad he didn’t have to go through this alone. The Tenebran Prince had made even the most boring questions amusing and the older boy found it difficult to keep a straight face whenever he made the mistake of catching Calum’s mischievous gaze.

“That’s all we’ll have time for today, everyone,” the staff member who had been hosting the conference announced. The older man was sweating a little under the bright lights in his red velvet waistcoat and Ashton knew he couldn’t look much better in his iridescent suit. He badly needed some fresh air, and he couldn’t wait to escape from the cramped room full of cameras and reporters. “Your Majesties, if you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you both to your seats for the feast.”

Ashton followed him gratefully, not even having to turn around to know that the younger boy was following him close behind. He could feel Calum’s dark eyes on his back, resting on his broad shoulders and crimson curls.

Ashton let out an unconscious sigh of relief when they stepped out into the relative privacy of the corridor, inhaling the fresher air deeply as a little of the tension bled out of him. Calum elbowed him lightly when he fell into step beside the older boy, his eyes crinkling as he shot the Claritan Prince a sly grin.

“Can you _really_ not swim, angel?” Calum teased, snickering to himself as Sierra fell into step beside them, shooting the Tenebran Prince a curious look before she smiled up at Ashton.

“Hey, Your Illustriousness,” she said with just a hint of sarcasm. “Is this punk bothering you? Need me to get rid of him for you?”

Calum snorted with laughter, only to glower when Ashton carefully kept his gaze fixed on his bodyguard.

“He wishes,” Ashton smirked. “Hood thinks he’s superior just because he’s got water abilities.”

Calum pouted a little bit but didn’t get the chance to respond because the staff member had just led them back into the chandelier-lit room where the Opening Gala was being hosted. The guests applauded the return of their champions and Ashton blushed a little, almost tripping over in his haste to reach his assigned chair and escape - even momentarily - from the watchful gazes of everyone staring at him.

His eyes widened when he realised that his and Calum’s friends were already seated together at the champions' reserved table, all of them looking far too companionable considering they’d never met before this evening. The fierce-looking boy’s shirt was stained with wine now but he was sitting next to Laura with his chin propped up in his palm, watching the fair-haired girl with dreamy eyes. Calum’s sister had seated herself next to Luke too who looked slightly overwhelmed - if pleasantly surprised - with the way the evening had turned out. She seemed to be complimenting the sparkly silver varnish on the youngest boy’s nails and Ashton’s expression softened as he watched the rare happiness shining on his ex-boyfriend’s face.

It was lovely to see and the Prince thought this whole tournament might be worth it if it made Luke happy again, even just for one night.

“Excuse me, angel,” Calum murmured as he eased past, making Ashton blush when he realised he’d been blocking the walkway. His cheeks only heated further when he felt the younger boy’s palm momentarily resting on his hip and he almost fell into his seat, certain that his face was glowing the same colour as his scarlet hair.

Calum settled down smugly in the seat opposite him, sitting next to Laura who shot him a cautious glance before offering a hesitant smile which the younger boy was quick to return. It made something in Ashton soften - especially when Mali cracked a joke and Luke let out a soft peal of laughter - and, after that, the Crown Prince stopped worrying.

Whatever happened in the Elevare would happen whether he fretted or not so there was little point in dwelling on it. At least he had his best friends with him. The situation felt a lot less frightening when he knew he didn’t have to struggle alone.

The first course was brought out quickly and Ashton picked at it, still too keyed-up to have much of an appetite. He was more focused on subtly watching Calum instead, a faint frown creasing his brow as he stole glimpses of the younger boy whenever he thought he could get away with it.

The Tenebran Prince was nothing like he’d been expecting.

Ashton had been taught from a young age that the best way to lead a nation was by example; that it was wrong of him to expect his people to do anything that he wasn’t willing to do himself. He’d always been aware that the royal Hood family didn’t behave in this way. The Tenebran heirs had never gone to fight in the Boneflats War and that was just the last in a long line of reasons that proved they were selfish rulers.

While the Claritan royal family had set a good example by sending their Crown Prince to fight, the Hoods had sent their commoners as bullet fodder to preserve their own lives. The Tenebran King and Queen were incredibly self-serving and, although Ashton had been taught to think of the entire family in that manner since he was barely old enough to walk, it felt necessary - if strange - to re-evaluate that assumption now.

Mali didn’t seem selfish, at least from what he’d seen of her interactions with Luke as she gently coaxed him from his shell… and Calum? He’d gone out of his way to invoke a reaction in the Claritan Prince; to make him smile and laugh, and _feel_.

When he looked up and caught Calum watching him curiously, Ashton wondered if maybe _he_ wasn’t what the younger boy had been expecting too.

The rest of the meal was interrupted by the Tenebran Prince’s sparkling chocolate brown eyes and the slight smirk tugging at his lips and, when Ashton finally declared that he was leaving for some fresh air before dessert was served, he wasn’t surprised in the slightest when Calum rose fluidly too, his lips curving into a hopeful smile.

“Back in a bit,” Ashton murmured, squeezing Luke gently on the shoulder as he slipped past a cautious-looking Sierra, heading for the balcony which overlooked the lake. The younger boy easily kept pace with him, his dark hair fluffy where it was curling sweetly around his ears.

“This is a nice spot,” Ashton said shyly, his hazel eyes sparkling in the soft lighting as he pushed open the glass door. “I think you’ll like it. There’s a great view of the water.”

“Better try not to fall in, angel,” Calum said lightly as he grinned. “Unless you want me to jump in and save you, of course. Although let me just tell you this: there are _definitely_ easier ways to get me shirtless.”

“Calum!” Ashton gasped, sniggering despite himself as he smacked the younger boy weakly on the arm, only to blush when he processed just how muscular the Tenebran Prince was. “We’ve only just met!”

“So?” Calum countered brazenly, his eyes twinkling.

They were standing closer than they needed to, the younger boy’s arm pressed warmly against Ashton’s as they leant against the stone balustrade together, gazing down into the lights reflected on the water.

It was cool and peaceful out here in the darkness, and the Claritan Prince let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding as he rested his head on his folded arms for a moment, some of the humour bleeding away to be replaced with exhaustion.

“You okay down there?” Calum asked wryly, his tone a lot softer than it had been back in the Gala.

Ashton tilted his head sideways wearily, his overheated cheek resting on the cool stone as he watched the taller boy out of the corner of one hazel eye.

“I’m okay,” he said and it surprised him a little to realise that his words finally felt true. “Are you?”

“Sure,” Calum said, shrugging easily, the emotion in his eyes undecipherable. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Despite the younger boy’s self-assurance, he still looked a little overwhelmed as he glanced down at the healed cut on his palm, already fading to a scar.

Ashton felt exactly the same and he sighed softly as he straightened back up, bumping Calum lightly with his hip.

After a moment, the younger boy nudged him back, his full lips curving into a smile.

“You think you’re cute, don’t you, angel?” Calum said accusingly but his chocolate brown eyes were glittering.

“I know I am,” Ashton joked but the words didn’t feel like a lie when he noticed the way the younger boy was gazing down at him.

Calum huffed out a soft laugh, not denying it.

“This tournament’s definitely going to be an adventure, isn’t it?” he murmured as the smirk returned to his lips. “How could it not be with _you_ as my all-powerful nemesis?”

“Stop trying to butter me up,” Ashton said, his heart fluttering in his chest at the fondness twinkling in Calum’s warm eyes.

“Why? Is it working?” the younger boy teased, leaning in closer now, their faces near enough that the Crown Prince could have counted every single one of Calum's dark eyelashes if he’d been brave enough to close the distance between them.

“Maybe,” Ashton admitted, biting his bottom lip to hide his smile as he brushed teasingly past Calum, heading back inside. He paused in the doorway though, unable to stop himself from throwing a flirty glance over his shoulder. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought so please remember to leave comments/kudos :)


	5. Simply Exist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!  
> I'm really excited to share this chapter with you and I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!  
> Thanks as always to the lovely Laura for helping me! <3
> 
> Trigger warning for non-graphic description of panic attack(s), mentions of war/violence, brief non-graphic mentions of self-harm, and Luke being a sad, sad boy at the end.

**_All my flowers grew back as thorns;_ **

**_Windows boarded up after the storm._ **

**_He built a fire just to keep me warm._ **

**_All the drama queens taking swings;_ **

**_All the jokers dressing up as kings;_ **

**_They fade to nothing when I look at him,_ **

**_And I know I make the same mistakes every time;_ **

**_Bridges burn, I never learn; at least I did one thing right._ **

_\- Call It What You Want, Taylor Swift_

 

Spring swept across Claritas early that year, filling the palatial estate gardens with sweet-smelling flowers. The two champions had begun training for their first task in earnest, aware only that the challenge would be a test of physical and magical endurance.

To cut a long story short, Calum wasn't looking forward to it. He'd always found it stressful to demonstrate his abilities in front of anyone who wasn't family or a close friend but he knew he had to be feeling a lot more confident than poor Ashton. The Claritan Prince was still in gruelling physiotherapy for his wounded spine and he had yet to regain complete control of his fiery abilities.

Ashton must have been absolutely dreading the first challenge. He never admitted it though; he was far more focused on pushing himself as hard as he could in an effort to build up his old strength.

The personal trainer they'd been assigned had long-since given up telling the older boy to stop over-exerting himself. She'd gone to Niall instead, fetching the healer who had fixed Ashton up after the Boneflats War in the hope that perhaps the older man might be able to talk some sense into his stubborn friend.

“Ash?” Niall asked tentatively, catching Calum's attention where he was running on the treadmill. The Tenebran Prince looked round, frowning when he saw how hard Ashton was panting as he doubled-over in front of the mirrored wall. He'd been lifting weights and he'd clearly pushed himself too hard. His red curls were plastered to his furrowed brow with sweat and his shirt had long-since been discarded, revealing the thick scar stretching achingly down the length of his spine.

The weights that Ashton had discarded on the floor nearby weren't anything too impressive – Calum could have lifted them easily – but he knew the older boy was still hurting, even if he _was_ too proud to admit it. A ragged sound tore out of Ashton – possibly a frustrated sob – and Calum bit his bottom lip hard when the Crown Prince stormed out of the room, knuckling his tears away roughly as he slammed the door shut behind him.

After a moment, the personal trainer decided to go after him, a frown on her face as she gathered up his t-shirt and water bottle before slipping out of the gym. Calum's heart ached a little bit when he heard the unmistakable sound of crying coming from the hallway and he grimaced, turning up the speed on the treadmill so that he could distract himself from his remorse with the burn of exercise.

Every moment he spent with Ashton made him feel worse about himself. He couldn't stand the fact that he'd agreed to his father's horrible plan, especially when there was no doubt at all in his mind that the Claritan Prince didn't deserve to be punished. He'd suffered enough from his actions that day on the Boneflats and Calum didn't even mean his physical injuries or the anxiety that plagued his every moment.

The self-loathing in Ashton's lovely eyes was impossible to ignore and it made something bitter well up on Calum's tongue as a lump rose in his throat. He didn't want Ashton to hurt anymore; he wanted him to take care of himself instead but how could Calum preach that when he'd agreed to kill the older boy?

He had no idea how to manage this situation but he knew it was a matter of weighing up which choice would destroy him more. He either continued to build Ashton's trust in order to enjoy the fragile softness growing between them, even if it _was_ at the risk of incurring his father's wrath and having his magic stolen from him against his will which would ruin any chance of Calum's happiness... or he kept his promise to the Tenebran King; followed through on the plan to kill Ashton, finally earnt his father's love and respect, and hated himself for the rest of his life... providing he could get away with it in the first place.

Calum didn't like either option very much. Why wasn't there an option where he got to be happy? Why couldn't he care about Ashton _and_ enjoy a healthier relationship with his father? It wasn't fair and he hated the situation he'd found himself in. He swore he was going to find a way to resolve this if it killed him... and all he could do was hope that it wouldn't.

Calum slowed the treadmill down with a heavy-heart, wiping sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt before he reached for his bottle. He took a deep swig, appreciating the coolness of the liquid as his abilities soothed a little at the water. He could see out of the window from here, towards the fountains and the vast flowerbeds, and he smiled faintly when he caught a glimpse of Michael and Laura wandering together as the blonde girl pointed to something on the horizon.

They'd been spending an increasing amount of time together over the past month and Calum was glad of it. He hadn't seen his best friend look so care-free in a long time and, when he compared the way the older boy was now to how devastated he'd been in the graveyard on Clifford Memorial Day, it was impossible not to feel content at the positive changes.

Calum didn't like thinking back to that cold day in Tenebris though. It reminded him too much of that suffocating conversation with David in his study and Calum shuddered as his eyes flickered down to his ankle, his gaze zeroing in on the scar his father had left on the tanned skin when his son had dared to try and make his best friend happy in public.

He wondered vaguely what his father would do to him if he knew that his son had kissed Michael; made him spill over his fingers and bite his neck to keep his moans muffled in the dead of the night, back when they'd been too young and horny to consider the implications of their actions.

Not for the first time, he considered just how angry his father would be if he ever learnt the intricacies of Calum and Michael's friendship. The Prince would find out one day if he ever had a death wish. David deserved to feel one modicum of the discomfort he had inflicted on his only son and, if offering up the details of his past relationship with Michael was the best way to go about it, Calum wasn't against wielding those old memories like a weapon.

He took another swig from his water bottle, his dark eyes drifting away from the sunlight shining in through the window. The personal trainer still hadn't returned to the gym and he bit his lip as he glanced worriedly towards the closed door, growing more concerned for the Claritan Prince with every passing minute of his absence.

Calum flinched when he glanced to the side and found Niall watching him, leaning against the far wall with his arms folded loosely across his chest. He cocked his head at the younger boy curiously and Calum flushed as he turned away, slowly increasing the speed on the treadmill so that he could build up his momentum again.

“Can I ask you a question, Calum?” Niall asked calmly. He was still lounging against the wall, dressed in faded jeans and a hand-knitted navy cardigan over a loose white t-shirt. His dark hair was soft where it was tumbling across his forehead and Calum felt silly for feeling so defensive at the older man's gentle words. There was nothing remotely threatening about Niall's tone or posture but the Prince couldn't quite shake off the feeling that he wasn't going to like whatever the healer was about to say.

“You can ask,” Calum said unwillingly, keeping his eyes fixed on the view of the gardens in front of him. “Doesn't mean I'll answer.”

Niall hummed in response as he pushed slowly away from the wall, ambling a little closer. His teeth were worrying at his bottom lip and his expression was unusually serious as he came to a stop, lingering on the very edges of Calum's field of vision.

“Why do you always feel so guilty whenever you look at Ashton?”

Niall's words felt like a kick in the chest and Calum's knuckles whitened where he was gripping the bar of the treadmill. The water in his bottle bubbled audibly, betraying him, and Calum's lips pressed together hard as he purposefully kept his gaze fixed on the window. Laura and Michael were kneeling down in the grass now as the blonde girl pointed out different flowers, and Calum tried to distract himself with how surprising their blooming friendship was but he couldn't when Niall had just taken a deliberate step closer.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Horan,” Calum snapped, sounding years younger with how high his voice had become in his stress. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to inhale deeply so that the burn in his chest felt less urgent. He kept waiting to be ridiculed for showing his emotions but it never came and he had a moment to appreciate the fact that he was no longer in Tenebris before he properly considered Niall's words, feeling a sinking sensation as the puzzle pieces finally began to fall into place.

“You're an empath, aren't you?” Calum realised as his blood ran cold in his veins, his hand shaking when it shot out to turn down the speed of the treadmill.

Empaths weren't trusted in Tenebris. They weren't allowed to set foot within Effervo - let alone in the citadel - and the Prince was glad of it. Anyone whose abilities allowed them to determine a person's emotions was considered an act of violation there and Calum knew his terror must have been tangible because Niall looked taken aback by it.

“Normally people just laugh at me when they discover my abilities,” the older man admitted as his brow creased with confusion. “I've never had someone look like they were going to pass out before.” He bit his lip suddenly, his blue eyes remaining fixed on the Prince's face. “ _Breathe_ , Calum.”

“Get away from me,” the younger boy croaked, his bottle toppling down onto the ground when the liquid inside jerked violently in time with his racing heart. The lid couldn't have been fastened properly because the water flooded out, rising rapidly to coil between the Prince's trembling fingers.

“You know I can only get a hint of your emotions, right?” Niall said gently, his tone placating. “I can't read your thoughts or anything.” He gave the younger boy a funny look suddenly, his lips downturned as he recalled the question which had started all of this in the first place.

“People feel guilty for lots of different reasons, Calum,” Niall said quietly. “I'm not going to judge you for yours.” The healer still looked infuriatingly unruffled and the Prince gaped at him as the water finally stopped twisting in his palm quite so viciously. Niall gave him a soft look as he buried his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumping a little under the weight of their conversation.

“I’m gonna go make sure Ashton is okay,” the older man said as he turned away. The gym was silent now, save for the gentle sound of the droplets hitting the floor as the water trickled harmlessly through the Prince’s fingers, and Niall paused in the doorway, not turning back to face the younger boy.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Calum,” the healer said gently. “Even if it feels like you don’t have a choice.”

Niall left then, shutting the gym door quietly behind him as Calum stared at his retreating back in shocked silence.

His heart felt too large for his ribcage and the water droplets still clinging to his fingers offered no comfort at all.

Calum didn’t know what to do.

He simply continued to stand there, his jaw hanging slack, his hands shaking at his sides. After a moment, almost mechanically, he simply dried his damp palm on his shorts – rubbing hard enough that the fingertip-sized bruises on his thighs ached – before he increased the speed on the treadmill again. He ran as fast as he could, until the sweat was stinging his eyes and his muscles were protesting the ache.

Through the window, Michael and Laura were still kneeling together in the gardens, both of them laughing as Luke ventured outside and was immediately bombarded by a flock of overly-friendly pigeons.

The sun was shining and the world looked golden outside but Calum felt cold.

*

It was a beautiful, warm day and Laura was glowing a little bit. She’d always liked spring and being surrounded by flowers always made her feel content but she knew the real reason for her happiness was stretched out on the grass beside her.

Michael was more relaxed than she’d ever seen him, his blond hair floppy, his emerald eyes calm as he lay with one arm folded casually beneath his head. Security had been heightened since the Tenebran royalty had come to stay for the Elevare and the press were no longer allowed even _close_ to the palace. It felt nice – if strange – to simply exist without the necessity of hiding her emotions and Laura could see that same contentedness in Michael whenever she caught him watching her fondly.

His t-shirt was a little rumpled from the position he was laying in and it meant that a narrow strip of his pearly skin was on show. Her gaze kept drifting back to it whenever her mind wandered and she sort of wanted to know if it was as soft as it looked but, before she could do something she might regret, her brother sloped out into the gardens too, successfully distracting her.

His progress towards them was slowed by the sheer number of birds circling him with their chirping songs but he was smiling so Laura wasn’t too worried as her gaze drifted habitually back to Michael. He was peering up at the wisps of cloud overhead with a curious expression on his face before his lips curled into a little smile.

“Do you see that cloud?” he asked eagerly. “It totally looks like a dragon.”

“You better hope it’s not an _actual_ dragon,” Laura teased before she saw the wary look he shot her and hurried to soothe him. “Only joking, Mike. There haven’t been dragons in Claritas for thousands of years.” He stuck his tongue out at her to hide his relief and she smiled faintly, aware that her cheeks were heating as she tilted her head back to join him in gazing up at the sky. “I still can’t see where you’re pointing.”

“There,” Michael said gently, reaching up with one pale hand as he shot a single spark from his fingertip. It blazed a soft pink as it drifted up into the vast blue and Laura felt the wonder saturating her expression as she watched it burn out. The younger boy had gone a little red at her reaction and Laura’s hand slipped to cover his in the grass before she could think better of it.

“You’re right,” she agreed calmly, even as her heart raced at her own daring. “It _does_ look like a dragon, sparky.”

Michael let out a startled laugh at the nickname and Laura flailed internally when he hesitantly entwined their fingers together, his expression undeniably soft. He didn’t seem at all disgusted by the burns marring her hands. He just looked tender instead.

“The pink is a pretty colour,” Laura offered gently, still thinking about how beautiful his powers were when they manifested. Michael hummed, looking pleased with himself as he struggled clumsily into a sitting position. There was a blade of grass caught in his hair and Laura removed it unthinkingly, something melting in her chest when he leant into the touch for a moment.

“My sparks haven’t been pink in a long time,” Michael admitted as his gaze fell to rest on the grass they were sitting on. Laura grew a daisy there and he smiled faintly as his fingertip drifted to stroke the petals. “The sparks change colour depending on my mood.”

“So what does the pink mean?” the older girl asked curiously as she watched Michael admiring the daisy. He still wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“It… it means I’m really happy,” he said hesitantly as the blush coloured his cheeks. He stroked her knuckles briefly with his thumb when she bit her lip at his words and she gave him a faint smile, sad that it had obviously been so long since he’d felt content.

The sound of chirping was louder now and Laura glanced towards the flock of birds circling her brother with mild amusement before her comm buzzed in her pocket, distracting her. She dug it out of her jeans with difficulty, painfully aware of how clumsy she felt under Michael’s gaze as her eyes skimmed over the message.

“You’re frowning,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly, even as her teeth sank nervously into her bottom lip for a moment. “Niall just messaged me to say that Ash got upset during training. I think I better go get him.”

“That’s okay,” Michael assured her when he heard the note of apology in her voice. “Need me to come with you?”

“No, it’s fine,” Laura said quietly as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “It’s probably easier if I go alone. I can calm him down better without an audience.” She got to her feet swiftly, leaving Michael sitting on the grass beneath her. “You can stay here and keep Luke company instead, sparky,” she added innocently as a grin curved her lips.

It was clearly a test and she only confirmed this when she raised a single eyebrow at the younger boy, clearly daring him to argue. Michael simply propped himself up on his elbows and smiled back at her though, refusing to do anything that might threaten their budding friendship. Plus, if Michael was being honest with himself, he still felt terrible for making Luke feel bad on the night of the Gala and even the hangover he’d suffered through the next morning hadn’t felt like penance enough.

“Fair enough,” Michael said as he crossed his legs under him, relaxing a little when he saw something soften in her eyes. “Catch up later?”

“Sure,” Laura said in a warmer voice as she took a step back, already drifting towards the best friend who needed her so much. The birds congregating around her brother let out another series of squawks then and she smirked a little, eyes glittering. “Make sure Luke doesn’t get carried away by pigeons again,” she added sweetly before she started back towards the palace in earnest.

“Again?” Michael repeated blankly before his green eyes widened. “Laura, did you say ‘ _again_ ’?!”

She laughed as she marched back inside – so he _hoped_ that meant she was joking – and Michael watched her go with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. He wasn’t sure how well his attempts at wooing her were going but he was willing to keep trying. No one else made his sparks glow pink the way Laura did – not even Calum or Mali these days – and the pursuit of his happiness seemed like a worthy cause, no matter how much effort it took to succeed… and if happiness came to him in the form of the groundskeepers’ daughter with her flowers and sparkling eyes, who was he to question Fate?

Shadows began to dapple the ground as the birds circled above and Michael looked up, smiling a little awkwardly as Luke came to a stop in front of him. They’d reluctantly spoken a few times since that night at the Gala but there’d always been other people present and it had never been out of choice. The younger boy sighed audibly, his change of mood apparently tangible as the birds fluttered down to land on the grass surrounding him. A blue tit landed on his broad shoulder, its feathery head almost the exact same shade as Luke’s sad eyes as it cheeped mournfully. He stroked it with a fingertip, one foot tapping unhappily on the grass as Michael gazed at the birds hopping around him in bemusement.

“Hey, buttercup,” Michael said, his tone a little rougher than he’d been intending. There was a crow crouched nearby, one beady eye fixed on his pale face as its beak parted to release a harsh cawing sound. Luke’s expression darkened a little as he fixed the older boy with a distrustful look.

“Where’s my sister?” Luke asked as he folded his arms across his chest, creasing the loose-fitting shirt he was wearing. The flowing material was white and airy, patterned with tiny pink flowers and jade green leaves. The garment was just one more example of how pretty Claritas looked on the surface and, for a moment, Michael found himself wishing that he could be like that too, although his cheeks heated when he realised that Laura _already_ looked at him like he was something special.

“She had to go inside to see Ashton,” Michael offered, several moments too late as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “She said I should keep you company instead.”

“Great,” Luke sighed, his tone bitter although he didn’t seem to have the energy to argue. He simply sat down on the spot of grass his sister had just vacated instead, his chin resting in his palm as he hunched up as small as he could make himself. The sun was burning brightly overhead, unusually clement for so early in the year, and Michael wondered briefly if Luke was too hot in his long-sleeved shirt before he was distracted by a flap of wings as another bird joined them from the surrounding treetops.

“You don’t normally seem to attract _quite_ this many birds,” Michael commented hesitantly, trying for a weak smile when Luke wearily met his gaze. “Do they like your aftershave or something?”

The younger boy let out a grudging huff of laughter but the sound died quickly.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Luke replied, sounding more tired than angry now. “I just haven’t been outside this last week.” The blue tit fluttered down into his palm and he smiled, soft and sad. “I guess they missed me.”

“Well, you can’t blame them,” Michael said, shrugging easily although he smiled a little when the younger boy looked up at him in surprise. “Most people get annoyed with pigeons pestering them all the time but anyone can see that you love them. It’s really sweet.”

Luke looked mollified – if slightly stunned – by the turn the conversation had taken. He shuffled a little closer, careful not to hurt any of the birds surrounding him as he shyly offered his palm to Michael where the little blue tit was safely perched.

“You wanna hold her?” Luke suggested softly. This was clearly an olive branch being extended and Michael wouldn’t have said no even if he’d been terrified of birds; not when he so badly wanted to make up for upsetting Luke the night they’d met.

“Okay,” Michael mumbled, biting his bottom lip nervously when Luke reached for his wrist, lifting it gently and turning it so that his palm was facing upwards. The little bird hopped trustingly into his hand and Michael cradled her safely, looking quite overwhelmed until he felt something unpleasant dripping onto his skin. Luke spluttered with quickly suppressed laughter and the older boy sighed heavily as he gave the blue tit a weak scowl.

“She pooed on me,” Michael said in a tone of mock sadness. “I bet you told her to, didn’t you?”

“I would never!” Luke exclaimed but he was _definitely_ giggling now and his wide blue eyes were glittering with mirth. “Come back to mine, Clifford, c'mon. Can’t have you walking around like that for the rest of the day.”

“None of them ever poo on _you_ , buttercup,” Michael said sourly but he couldn’t quite stop himself from smiling at the amusement saturating the younger boy’s face.

“Well, that’s because they actually like me,” Luke teased, taking far too much delight in the situation. “Now come on – up you get! I’d give you a hand but I don’t particularly want to get myself all dirty.”

“Stop enjoying this so much,” Michael said darkly but his sparks were still glowing pink beneath his skin and he was relieved that the sadness had been momentarily extinguished from the younger boy’s eyes. “Stop laughing at me or I’ll leave a handprint on your pretty shirt.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Luke gasped, even as his pale face crinkled into a smile. “Hey, if you’re nice to me, I might even show you this new game I got on the comm before I send you back to the mercy of the birds again. Have you ever heard of Intergalactic Raiders?”

“Yes!” Michael cried excitedly, almost tripping in his haste to follow Luke back to the palace. “I’ve been waiting to play that game forever but it’s not out in Tenebris yet. Have you _seriously_ got a copy of that game just lying around at home?” He shook his head in disbelief when Luke offered him a bashful nod, the younger boy’s shoulders straightening as they stepped into the cool interior of the palace, leaving the birds behind. “Damn, is that why you spent the last week inside then? Because if it was, I’m jealous.”

Luke’s expression tightened fractionally as he fiddled with his sleeve but, although his smile faded, it didn’t completely disappear.

“Nah, I didn’t want to play it alone and Ash hasn’t been in the mood lately,” he said in a tone of forced indifference, shrugging weakly. “I was waiting for someone to join me.”

“Well, it looks like it’s your lucky day then,” Michael said lightly as he followed Luke down the corridor, looking around curiously as his trainers squeaked on the marble floor. He’d never been this way before – the guests had all been given rooms on the upper floor with the Claritan royalty – and he was glad the Tenebran bodyguards that he and the Hood siblings had been assigned allowed their charges free reign within the estate. This wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun if a sweaty forty-something year old man had been sloping along behind them with a bored expression on his face, trying to keep Michael out of trouble.

“I hope you don’t mind losing the game terribly, buttercup,” the older boy announced when Luke tugged him to a stop, snorting with laughter when he glanced down at where Michael was holding his dirty hand awkwardly away from his body.

“Interstellar victory or not, I think you’ve already lost today, Clifford,” the younger boy pointed out smugly as he opened the apartment door. “Now try not to touch anything, okay? Mum will get mad if you smear bird poo on the wallpaper.”

“Couldn’t you just get a servant to clean it up?” Michael pointed out, only half joking. Luke gave him a funny look, tilting his head to one side curiously as he processed the older boy’s words.

“My family more or less _are_ servants,” he said slowly as a frown deepened on his forehead. “Why’d you think we’re allowed to live here? My mum and dad are employed by Ash’s parents. They’re the groundskeepers, remember?”

“Yeah, I know,” Michael said defensively, cheeks heating a little. “I guess I just… forgot.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “We’re not really meant to talk to the servants in Tenebris. David doesn’t like it.”

“Really?” Luke bit his lip, looking a little worried by this information. “I don’t think I like Tenebris.”

“I don’t blame you,” Michael muttered, feeling the tiredness in his bones for a moment. “I don’t really like it either.”

*

Evenings were Laura’s favourite times, especially on the days when she’d spent her afternoons studying to be the best healer possible. She’d given her daily reading a miss today after Niall’s message and had spent the time trying to cheer Ashton up instead, painting his nails a pretty lilac colour while she fed him little broken bits of the cookies her mum had made that hadn’t quite survived being removed from the baking tray.

He’d calmed down surprisingly quickly, especially considering the state he’d been in when she’d found him crying in the corridor outside the gym, too angry at his own body letting him down to do much more than kick the wall when she’d asked him what was wrong. She hadn’t reprimanded him for it though because there was no point; not when the first task of the Elevare was looming so close. It would be taking place the day after tomorrow and Ashton was naturally terrified; that was the reason he’d reacted so recklessly in the first place.

“Was Ash okay earlier?” Luke murmured from beside her, seemingly reading his sister’s mind. The pair were sitting snuggled up together on the sofa in their apartment, tucked under a blanket their mum had made as the comms channel broadcast to the dark room.

Their parents had gone out tonight for a meal so Laura and Luke had attempted to feed themselves, something which usually yielded interesting results since they weren't exactly confident chefs. The older girl smiled fondly as she pressed a brief kiss to her little brother’s curls, sleepy in the comfortable warmth of the room.

“He cheered up pretty quick when I gave him chocolate chip cookies,” Laura reassured him, watching the younger boy dotingly when Luke yawned sleepily, looking very much like a kitten. “By the time Sierra came to get him, he was fine again. Didn’t show any flames at all this time… although I guess that might not be a good thing if his abilities still aren’t back to normal yet.”

“He’ll get there,” Luke said heavily, his tone concerned as he leant closer into his sister’s side. “Just maybe not in time for the first task.”

He looked so worried that Laura was quick to distract him, not wanting him to slip into one of his slumps again.

“He’s getting along well with Sierra though, isn’t he?” she asked softly, keeping her voice purposefully light. “It feels like she’s sticking with him because she actually _cares_ , y’know? Not just because Ash’s parents hired her.”

“I think you’re right,” Luke said at length as some of the unease faded from his eyes. He tucked his head beneath her chin, folding himself up as small as possible when Laura's arms came to wrap safely around him. She dropped another kiss onto his caramel-coloured curls, his hair fluffy and soft when she carded her fingers through it gently. He still smelt exactly the same way he had done when he was a baby and it made her heart feel too big for her chest as he burrowed down beneath the blanket.

“We used to sit like this when we were little, lofty,” she murmured, her voice soft in the darkness. “Do you remember?” Luke nodded silently and Laura smiled, the memories bittersweet as she realised just how cruel time had been to them. “You used to give me pretty things that the birds brought you,” she continued quietly. “Shiny coins and little twigs with berries on. They used to go all over the carpet and mum would get annoyed but you never stopped bringing me them. I still have them in a box somewhere. I wish I remembered the last time you gave me one.”

They both laughed softly but the sound was distinctly watery and it faded quickly in the shadows.

“You used to be such a happy little boy,” she murmured, unthinking in her exhaustion. Luke tensed in her arms and she sighed softly, biting her lip. Her brother always looked so sad these days and she knew deep down that he was depressed, and that was why it hurt so much that he didn’t feel like he could talk to her anymore.

They’d shared everything together when they were younger but Laura refused to force him to confess whatever was making him so miserable. Demanding the answers to questions he wasn’t ready to respond to would only push him away and losing her little brother was the last thing she wanted.

She would just have to stay by his side instead; to prove that she wasn’t going to abandon him, no matter how hard things got. Luke would _always_ be able to depend on his big sister. Laura had made that promise to herself the day he was born and she hadn’t broken her word yet, so why start now?

“I wasn’t expecting to see you and Mike together earlier,” she said, kindly offering a subject change without drawing attention to the sheen of tears in Luke's distressed eyes. “I guess my incredibly shrewd plan worked after all.” Luke snorted weakly, which was probably the closest thing to a laugh she was going to get tonight.

“It wasn’t subtle, tiny,” the younger boy muttered, shrugging half-heartedly. “It was kind of fun though. I guess Clifford’s not the worst person on Cerasus.”

“Wow, that’s big of you,” Laura teased, her tired eyes twinkling. “Maybe you could be a little kinder to him. You already beat him at your game today. He’ll have no confidence left at this rate.”

“He’s _your_ boyfriend; not mine,” Luke disagreed flippantly, not entirely joking. Laura eyed her brother warily, unable to jokingly respond when his words had sent her heart racing so fast in her chest, no matter how much she wished that wasn’t the case. She’d _tried_ to dislike Michael after that night at the Gala – probably out of some misguided loyalty for Luke if she was being honest with herself, especially since he’d never considered not dating Ashton despite the strain it could have potentially put on _her_ friendship with the Prince – but she couldn’t help herself.

There was something captivating about Michael that kept drawing her back; a bond that had been forged between them when they’d realised just how much they shared. On the surface, they were both such different people – one the orphan of two famous politicians, the other the daughter of servants – but they’d both known hardship; had both suffered loss and grief as the press gunned for them, ridiculing and smearing them because they didn’t behave the way they were expected to.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, lofty,” Laura said softly, the words coming far too late. Luke just looked at her, his blue eyes fathoms deep as the expression on his face became indecipherable.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, sending a reprimanding whisper of wind to send her hair fluttering over her face. When she didn’t scold him for it the way she usually did, he pressed his lips together hard at the proof of her dishonesty. “I know you far too well for that.”

He went to bed then, leaving her sitting alone under the crumpled blankets, and Laura shivered, so much colder without him. She smoothed the pad of her thumb hesitantly over the back of one burnt hand, feeling the rise and fall of the scars as she heard the gentle click of her brother’s bedroom door closing.

Maybe Luke wasn’t the _only_ one keeping secrets about matters of the heart.

Maybe it was a family failing.

*

The next morning dawned bright and cold as the anticipation drifted through the empty corridors of the palace like fog.

Ashton’s heart was pounding painfully fast before he'd even reached the gym and he gritted his teeth against the anxiety he could feel coiling in his empty stomach, hunching up as small as he could in his sweatpants and hoodie.

The Tenebrans’ arrival had been an excellent distraction from the plaguing panic attacks he'd suffered since waking up from his coma but all of the suppressed dread was rising inside him again like a wildfire now, charring him to dust.

He slipped into the gym silently, glad that he'd managed to escape down here without Niall or the personal trainer following him. His red hair was soft beneath his hood, the colour reflected in his flushed cheeks as he shut the door swiftly behind him. He leant against it for a moment, just breathing as he closed his exhausted eyes and tried to stem the anxiety before it had a chance to dig its claws in.

His heart clenched uneasily in his chest when he realised that he wasn't alone in the room after all and he grimaced when he saw Calum watching him, his dark gaze gentle when it was just the two of them alone with no one to impress.

“Morning, Ash,” the Tenebran Prince murmured from where he'd been stretching by the window, staring out at the mist. The early morning light made him look unusually soft as he turned to face the older boy fully and Ashton felt the lump rising in his throat with something like panic.

He couldn't keep his emotions in check no matter how hard he tried and his shoulders slumped as the boiling tears trickled shamefully down his face. He hated how weak he felt; hated that the younger boy could undoubtedly see _exactly_ how pathetic he was but he couldn’t help it. No one _truly_ understood how he felt anymore… no one but Calum.

Ashton lost control slowly, his knees weakening beneath him as his face crumpled. He was too tired to hold himself together now; too stressed and hurting, and afraid of how unsettled his life had become. He felt the way he had that night on the balcony with his father for a moment; felt like he was about to be crushed to dust by the sheer weight of his own stubborn pride.

“Oh, angel,” Calum murmured, his dark eyes softening when Ashton sank down onto the floor, still leaning against the door. After a moment of hesitation, the younger boy drifted over to sit beside him, his muscular arm slipping easily around the Claritan Prince's shaking shoulders. “Why the tears?”

Ashton’s skin felt too tight now, stretched so thinly over the fire burning in his bones that he couldn’t hold it back anymore. A panicky sob tore out of him as the flames rippled bluish-white across his knuckles and the colour drained from his face at the sight of them, so close to Calum's unprotected skin. His fire hadn't burnt this hot since that day on the Boneflats and he felt like he was going to be sick when the younger boy flinched beside him, one tanned hand shooting up to shakily snatch his water bottle out of the air when it hurtled towards him.

Calum didn’t pull away from him; not even when the flames licked high enough that Ashton’s wrists were scorching too, obscured by the curling tongues of fire. He coaxed the liquid from his bottle instead, gathering the water into a sizable sphere in his palm before he lowered it to gently douse the flames licking at Ashton’s trembling fingers.

As the fire sputtered out and the steam coiled away into nothing at all, Calum pressed his lips gently to the older boy’s curls, lingering there for just a moment too long. No one had ever smothered Ashton’s flames like that before, without being patronising or exasperated, or downright cruel. Calum had extinguished them like he was trying to keep the Crown Prince safe; like the risk meant nothing at all if he could calm the older boy down again.

Ashton’s head hit the door as the tension bled out of him, his hazel eyes sliding shut in exhaustion as the tears rolled down his face.

“I'm sorry,” the older boy whispered, his words little more than a breath. “I'm so _sorry_ , Cal.”

Calum hadn't looked upset earlier when he'd been in very real danger but he looked miserable now, his dark eyes growing damp as he reached shakily to cradle Ashton’s overheated cheek.

“Do I need to fight someone for making you cry?” the younger boy asked as lightly as he could manage, not even mentioning the fact that Ashton’s magic had once again acted like it had a mind of its own because he didn't want to make the Crown Prince uncomfortable. Calum was too kind for his own good.

“No one made me cry,” Ashton admitted, rolling his eyes at his own ridiculousness as he dried his face with the too-long sleeves of his hoodie. He was blushing now and Calum's gentle gaze definitely wasn't helping. “It’s… honestly not a big deal. I’d probably just ramble for ages. You don’t need to hear that.”

“What if I _want_ to hear?” Calum countered softly, his gaze warm as he stroked the older boy’s cheekbone gently with the pad of his thumb. “We've got time. Fire away, angel.” His eyes twinkled faintly as he offered a crooked smile. “No pun intended obviously.”

Ashton huffed out a watery laugh, slumping a little as his head came to rest in the warm curve of the younger boy's neck.

“Idiot,” he whispered, not even having to look to know that the Tenebran Prince was smiling to himself. “I don’t wanna make you sad, Cal,” he blurted suddenly, his muscles tensing as the guilt twisted inside him. Calum just shrugged as he hooked his chin easily over the older boy's shoulder.

“We're not leaving here ‘til you talk to me so I'd start speaking if I were you,” the younger boy said firmly. “Then I'm taking you for our last pre-Elevare breakfast, yeah? We'll get muffins or something. It'll be great.”

Ashton’s expression tightened despite how nice that sounded and Calum softened as his teeth sank into his bottom lip.

“Is that what's wrong?” he asked gently, his chocolate brown eyes growing serious. “Are you frightened about tomorrow? Because if you are, dwelling on it won’t help, Ash. It’s out of our control and whatever happens will happen for a reason. There’s no use being scared of it.”

“I’m not scared of the contest,” the older boy disagreed weakly. “Not _really_ anyway.” He’d fought in the war after all; had seen the most horrific things that still haunted him every night when he tried to sleep. A silly tournament - even one broadcast to an entire planet of people who were openly hostile to him - couldn’t possibly measure up to that; to the sight of people being torn apart in front of him; to the soul-crushing, devastating agony he’d felt upon realising just how many lives he’d stolen by his own lack of self control.

The Elevare was nothing if it kept Claritas and Tenebris from going to war again. Ashton would happily participate with his eyes shut.

“Then why are you so frightened?” Calum whispered, his fingers digging into his thigh as he gazed at the older boy anxiously. His shorts had rucked up when he sat down and Ashton could just make out dozens of tiny purplish bruises scattering the tanned skin that had been revealed, each the size of the Tenebran Prince’s fingertips.

“Have you ever heard of the Purgatio, Cal?” Ashton tried to be subtle when he reached to take Calum’s hand, entwining their fingers together firmly so that the younger boy wouldn’t hurt himself again. He watched the confusion grow on Calum’s face with something like sympathy, especially when he saw a flicker of recognition that was followed quickly by fear. “I guess you’ve heard about them on the comms channels?”

“A little bit,” Calum admitted softly. “They’re fighting for Claritan independence I think.” His face twisted into something a lot harsher as he shook his head at their blatant discrimination towards his own nation. “They hate the idea of Tenebris and Claritas working together, right?”

“Right,” Ashton agreed faintly, his face paling. “Just before the Elevare was announced, the Purgatio threw a brick through the window of the medical bay where I was recovering.” Calum had gone very still beside him but the older boy forced himself to continue as the anxiety coiled like red-hot barbed wire around his heart. “That was the most recent time they tried to hurt me. Several other incidents were reported too but… well, those were while I was still in a coma after… after what happened on the Boneflats.”

The Claritan Prince shuddered, closing his eyes as he focused on the cool air filling the room and Calum’s arm wrapped comfortingly around him, keeping his flames at bay. The colour had drained from the younger boy’s face now and he was holding Ashton closer, almost like he was afraid to let him go, lest the Purgatio appear at that very moment and snatch him away.

“They hate me because I ended the war,” Ashton said heavily. “That’s why I’m not allowed out of the estate without Sierra.” He saw the dawning realisation on Calum’s face and shrugged ruefully as he raked a weary hand through his crimson curls. “She’s the best bodyguard I’ve ever had, to be fair,” he added, smiling weakly. “No one else calls me out on my shit with _quite_ that level of sarcasm. Sierra’s like Laura without the filter.”

Calum laughed but the sound was noticeably strained and he looked tense as his gaze flickered furtively towards the windows, where the mist was still cloaking the gardens outside. It would be a bright day later, once the fog had burnt away, but for now the world still seemed mysterious and faraway.

“That’s why I’m scared though,” Ashton murmured with a note of finality, his expression saturated with shame and love. “I’m worried that the Purgatio are going to try something at one of the tasks; that someone I love or… or even someone who _hates_ me is going to get hurt… and it’ll all be because of me, Cal.” His eyes were damp again, the lump in his throat hard to breathe past. “All because of my fucking _awful_ magic -”

“Your magic is beautiful,” Calum interrupted fiercely as he wrapped his arms warmly around the older boy’s waist, drawing him closer. “It’s _beautiful_ , angel,” he repeated, the honesty in his eyes blazing. “Just like you.”

Ashton’s heart was racing in his chest now, trapped inside the confines of his ribs like a hummingbird as his lips parted at Calum’s words. He felt dazed as the younger boy’s fingers tangled gently through his curls, his pulse roaring in his ears when his trembling hands came to settle on Calum’s broad shoulders. They were breathing the same air now, close enough that their noses brushed as the tension between them sparked like electricity. Ashton’s eyes fluttered shut when he tilted his head, his heart rising into his throat as Calum leant closer, his thumb smoothing over the older boy’s cheekbone, his full lips just a hair's breadth away.

When the door was pushed open suddenly into their backs, Ashton almost headbutted Calum in his haste to get out of the way and they were both sniggering sheepishly as Sierra appeared in the doorway. She regarded them both with wide eyes, taking in their flushed cheeks and the faint smell of burning in the room. Ashton’s curls were rumpled where Calum’s fingers had tangled through them and they were panting a little bit.

“Okay…” she said slowly, clearly trying hard not to smirk. “I’m not even going to ask.” She coughed to hide a laugh at the startled expressions on their faces, eyeing them appraisingly as they tried hard to act nonchalant. “I only came down here because your mum asked me to check on you, Ash. She couldn’t find you this morning so she was worried.” Ashton opened his mouth to apologise but Sierra beat him to it, her expression softening as she smiled faintly. “I should’ve known you’d be with Hood.”

She ducked out of the gym then, winking at Ashton almost imperceptibly as Calum drifted closer, his dark eyes crinkling with the grin he was trying to suppress. The older boy glanced over at him coyly, his cheeks heating a little as he flattened his red hair clumsily. Calum reached to tuck a curl behind his ear and Ashton’s stomach fluttered excitedly as he straightened the younger boy’s t-shirt with trembling hands, unable to keep himself from touching him.

“You said something about muffins, Cal?” he asked innocently, glancing up through his long eyelashes. Calum smiled dazedly, his lips pressing together like he couldn’t believe his luck.

“Sure I did,” he murmured, his fingertips lightly grazing the older boy’s jaw before he unwillingly drew himself away. “C’mon then, angel. Breakfast time.”

Calum started towards the door with a crooked smile on his lips, not even turning around when he reached out behind him, waiting for the Crown Prince to take his hand.

The older boy blushed as he darted after him, entwining their fingers firmly in the calmness of the morning, and Calum didn’t mention it.

He just squeezed Ashton’s hand tighter.

*

This was the lowest Luke had felt in a long time.

He was surrounded by his friends, all of them laughing and smiling as they enjoyed their last night together before the first task, and he felt like he was untouched by it. This was how he’d felt when everyone had left him to fight on the Boneflats, too young and helpless to be of any use to the war effort. His loving parents had done their best to fill the void in his heart but they worked so hard to keep him fed and clothed that they hadn’t been present very much, and for those two lonely years, Luke’s only unfailing company had been his birds.

The sun was already beginning to set and there was a definite tension in the air as the hours until the first challenge slipped away like sand. The grass was soft under Luke, still warm from the heat of the day, and he pressed his palm flat to the earth like he could draw a little of that warmth into his own heart but it didn’t work. Maybe nothing would.

A burst of laughter sounded from nearby and he jumped, startled. It was Mali and Sierra who had chosen to sit closest to him, their dark eyes glittering as they cackled at whatever they'd just seen on Mali's comm. They were going through pictures of some of the more ridiculous costumes worn during the Opening Gala and usually Luke would’ve enjoyed their animated conversation but he didn’t have the energy to join in tonight.

His sister was sitting nearby, predictably with Michael. They both kept shooting Luke hopeful smiles and, although he couldn’t quite keep himself from wearily returning them, his heart wasn’t in it. Laura was painting Michael’s nails for him and, although the younger boy seemed to be trying to act like he wasn’t thrilled, Luke could see through it easily.

Prettiness was scarce in Tenebris and Michael looked delighted at this unexpected turn of events, especially when Laura grew a little purple flower and tucked it fondly into his bleached blond hair. His cheeks were dusted a soft pink now and he beamed at her when she murmured: “There, sparky. Now you’re perfect.”

Luke’s heart ached. He truly wasn’t jealous – after all, no one deserved to be happier than Laura, at least in his eyes – but it hurt that she was keeping her feelings from him when she was so obviously falling for Michael. Maybe the worst part was that Luke knew he couldn’t really blame her; not when, deep down, he’d been doing exactly the same thing himself.

Laura didn’t know that he was falling in love with Niall as inexorably as a landslide; that, no matter how hard he tried to keep himself from falling, it was impossible to escape. Luke didn’t _want_ to fall in love again. He didn’t want to feel that sandpaper scratch around his heart, reminding him agonisingly of the way he’d felt after Ashton had left him, when he’d wrongly assumed that the younger boy was in agreement that their relationship should remain platonic… the day he’d cut Luke’s charred heart out of his chest and left to fight, only to return a year later in broken, unfamiliar pieces.

Ashton was sprawled nearby now, his head cushioned on the Tenebran Prince’s lap as Calum stroked the older boy's curls lightly, his soft eyes fixed on the fiery locks. He hadn't been able to keep his hands off him all night and Ashton wasn’t much better, his long fingers twisted loosely in the younger boy’s t-shirt like he wanted to keep him close.

Laura was taking requests for flowers now, her eyes sparkling as she demonstrated her abilities to the general awe of everybody present. Luke watched her lovingly for a little while, gratefully accepting the daffodil she passed him before her attention was caught by Michael earnestly asking her the story of how her magic had first manifested.

“I was… I think maybe three or four,” Laura said thoughtfully, shrugging as she pressed a tulip wordlessly into Michael’s hands. “Mum and dad were working in the gardens, and I kept bringing them flowers; just daisies and things. I think they thought I was just picking them at first but then the flowers got bigger, more exotic… and then dad spotted me round the corner growing a giant sunflower about twice as tall as me.”

She grinned at the memory, blushing at the way Michael was watching her, his emerald eyes glitter-soft beneath the sunset.

“That’s enough about me though,” Laura declared as she passed a deep red rose to Mali, whose eyes sparkled with excitement. “What about you, Mike? How did your magic first manifest?”

It was a perfectly reasonable question but Calum and Mali visibly tensed, and Laura bit her lip when Michael shot her a sad smile, her blue eyes tightening when she couldn’t work out what she’d done wrong.

“I don’t want to talk about that tonight,” Michael said quietly, his expression remaining soft when he reached out hesitantly to lace their fingers together. “It’s a sad story.”

Luke dropped his gaze when he saw the tenderness unfurling on his sister’s face, feeling almost like he was intruding on a private moment… like he’d been shut out of another important moment in his sister’s life. He could feel himself losing her all over again but, this time, there was no war to blame; just the fact that she was fearlessly falling in love, the way he never could.

When he became quite certain that he was about to cry, Luke got to his feet, unable to stand staying here for a moment longer. His arms were stinging beneath the sleeves of his jumper and the sadness inside felt like it was going to drown him if he stopped frantically treading water, almost too tired to carry on.

They were all watching him now, their expressions ranging between confusion and concern, and Luke couldn’t escape fast enough. He _hoped_ he was out of earshot when the first exhausted sob tore out of him but he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t certain of anything anymore.

“Luke?” a voice called but the wind rippling around him muffled the word and he wasn’t sure if it was Laura or Sierra who had spoken. He just ran instead, stumbling over the grass with no clear destination in mind until he realised he was craving safety and solitude, and then there was really only one place left for him to go.

He ducked into the trees edging the palatial estate gardens so that he was out of sight, weaving between the trunks until he reached the colossal, hollowed-out oak tree he’d always hidden in when he was a kid. The leaves rustled violently as he approached, the breeze emanating from him unusually forceful as the birds scattered from the branches, for once abandoning him instead of trying to offer comfort.

The sky was already almost dark overhead when Luke slumped down onto his back inside the tree. It was a bit of a tight fit now – he wasn’t a little boy anymore, that much was certain – but he could still just about squeeze in and it was just as soothing as he remembered. He could see the first stars overhead, half-hidden between the crown of branches as the tree continued to grow, even despite the gaping void inside it.

Laura had kept it alive for Luke over the years, feeding it her magic whenever she happened to pass by, because she knew how much her brother loved his hideaway. She just wanted to make him _happy_.

Luke didn’t know why he felt so sad that he couldn't breathe instead. He felt it churning inside him like a storm, until the wind was twisting around his fingertips and the tree was creaking in protest, and he couldn’t see the sky as the branches whipped viciously overhead. Perhaps Luke should have felt scared but he didn’t because this was the only time he truly felt calm anymore; when the world around him had descended into chaos, it made him feel like his own life might not be shattered beyond repair.

“Is there room for one more?” an achingly familiar voice asked softly. Luke looked up sharply to find Niall looking understandably windswept, his nose red with the cold, his dark hair in disarray as he lingered by the entrance into the trunk. There was a leaf nestled in his fringe and he was shivering a little but it was clear that he had no intention of leaving.

The wind stopped and the tree calmed. Niall’s face softened.

“Hey, Lukey,” he said gently as he wriggled inside to join Luke. The younger boy’s sadness must have been perceptible enough that the empath had sensed it back in the palace and Luke flushed when Niall settled down opposite him, sitting cross-legged so that their knees brushed lightly in the shadows.

He didn’t mention the fact that Luke's anguish had led him here like a lighthouse – there was no need when they both knew what Niall’s abilities allowed him to do – but the older man’s expression remained undeniably soft as he reached for the younger boy’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

A tear slipped down Luke’s pale cheek but he gave Niall a watery smile, not _quite_ able to hate himself when the healer was looking at him like that, with so much affection and kindness.

“You feel cold,” Niall said softly, clearly intending his words in more ways than one. “Come inside with me? We can watch your favourite comms channel and I’ll feed you ice cream.”

“Ice cream is cold too, Ni,” Luke pointed out but he was smiling a little now, even as he dried his eyes clumsily with his sleeve.

“Chocolate then,” the older man said easily, shrugging. “Something sweet.”

“ _You’re_ sweet.” The words escaped Luke unthinkingly but, before the colour had a chance to drain from his face, Niall’s expression became pleasantly surprised. He dropped the younger boy’s hand in favour of drawing him into a warm hug and Luke melted into it without meaning to, a shaky sigh escaping him as he buried his face in Niall’s neck.

“You’re gonna be okay, Lukey,” he promised. “I can feel it.”

For just a moment, Luke thought the older man might be right.

He felt less lost in Niall’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading :)  
> I would love to hear what you thought <3


	6. Blue Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm back and I had a ridiculous amount of fun writing this chapter - I hope you'll all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!  
> Thank you as always to Laura for all of her help and encouragement <3  
> Enjoy :)
> 
> Trigger warning for non-graphic mentions of self-harm and anxiety, and (mild-ish) sexual content.

**_They used to shout my name; now they whisper it._ **

**_I’m speeding up and this is the_ **

**_Red, orange, yellow flicker beat_ **

**_Sparking up my heart._ **

_\- Yellow Flicker Beat, Lorde_

 

Today was the day.

Mali had barely slept, her nerves scraped raw for what her little brother and his new friend would have to suffer through today. Her imagination was overactive enough that she had tried to avoid watching old footage of previous Elevares – the sheer brutality of the historic challenges would never cease to appal her – but it had been impossible to avoid it completely. There were holograms advertising the tournament and broadcasting the footage everywhere she turned, and Mali’s nightmares had returned with a vengeance as she pictured all of the harm that could come to Calum as he represented their nation.

The Tenebran King and Queen had arrived in the jet this morning, making a clear statement that they would only be setting foot in Claritas for the shortest possible time. It showed incredibly poor manners – especially during a time when peace was so fragile – but Mali didn’t have time to judge her parents for their blatant rudeness because, the very moment the passengers stepped off the jet, her heart tore itself apart in her chest.

They’d brought a number of guards with them but her eyes instinctively settled on Ashley, taking in the younger girl’s determinedly calm expression as she lined up on the tarmac, dressed in the signature black button-up and combat boots of the Tenebran Royal Protectors. There was a pistol holstered at her waist, and the fingerless gloves she had donned left her hands free enough to adeptly manipulate rock and stone.

Clearly, Ashley had got a new job while Mali was away and it kind of _hurt_ that she hadn’t been made aware of this decision. They still messaged occasionally – granted, less and less as the days went by – and it stung that the younger girl hadn’t told her she’d become a royal guard… that she had signed her life away to be just one more dangerously powerful weapon in the King and Queen’s armoury.

It had only been a few months since Mali had last seen her but the younger girl seemed different now… older maybe; more tired. She hadn’t been the same since returning from the Boneflats War but a little of the old Ashley had still remained, lingering in her sparkling eyes and the scrunch of her freckled nose whenever she grinned at Mali –

But Ashley hadn’t smiled at the older girl in a long time and the grimness seemed to have engulfed her now, eating away everything of the girl Mali had fallen in love with until Ashley was hard and cold underneath, just like the rock she loved so much.

“C’mon, smiley,” Calum hissed from beside her, his dark eyes soft but serious. Michael bit his bottom lip nervously as he watched the pain rippling across the older girl’s expression. “Mum and dad are waiting for us. Quick now or it’ll look bad.”

Calum was jittery as he ushered his sister and Michael across the tarmac, clearly unable to forget that the last few hours before the first challenge were slipping away from him like the tide going out. He looked afraid and excited, ready to burst out of his skin at the slightest provocation.

Mali’s bracelets tightened around her wrists automatically as she fell into step beside Calum, the metal a comforting weight as she allowed the presence of her two favourite boys to soothe her apprehension. As they left the relative privacy of the entranceway they’d been lingering in, the sudden camera flashes quickly proved that the press had been granted admittance for this state visit. Ashley’s eyes flickered to Mali’s face and the older girl fought against the blush threatening to heat her cheeks, instead allowing the gentle warmth of her magic to ebb through her.

The bracelets melted down her arms to cover her knuckles instead, threading intricately between her fingers until her knuckles were bristling with ornately spiked metal, razor sharp and incredibly unsubtle. She couldn’t have been more obvious about her feelings for Ashley if she'd simply proclaimed them to the watching crowd of photographers and journalists – all of whom were looking between her and the newest guard with shrewd looks, since the pair had never exactly been subtle – but Mali clenched her fists and knew that this was better.

After all, she’d inherited her dramatic streak from her father and was well aware that the press would report on her past relationship with Ashley regardless of her reaction. At least this way, they would have something worthy of writing about.

“Knuckle dusters?” Michael murmured out of the corner of his mouth. “ _Really_ , you terrifying woman?”

Mali straightened her back and tried to suppress the sly smile curving her lips when Calum gave her newest creations an approving look.

“Shut up, Mike,” she said firmly as she strode ahead, her confidence returning as the bright metal gleamed in the sunlight.

“Yeah. Shut up, Mike,” Calum repeated smugly, winking at his best friend when the older boy gave him a dirty look. “They’re the perfect accessory for any Princess.”

“Then why don’t you have any?” Michael asked sweetly, narrowly avoiding being elbowed in the ribs when Mali raised one metal-clad hand threateningly.

“Not in front of the cameras, boys,” she said smoothly as they approached the King and Queen, all three of them sobering visibly as the humour slipped from their faces to be replaced with wariness. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

*

The atmosphere in the transport was painfully strained.

Calum’s leg was jiggling as he sat in the window seat, his chest tight as his fingernails bit roughly into his thigh. Michael was slouched in the middle seat, his earphones cutting out the noise of the transport as he played a racing game on his comm, his green eyes glued to the screen. Mali was slumped beside him as she listened to music through her headphones, staring out moodily at the landscape flying by outside. She’d been silent ever since she’d stepped into the vehicle and left Ashley behind, and the hard set of her jaw – along with the continued existence of the metal spikes decorating her knuckles – proved that she was more upset than she’d let on.

Calum’s parents sat in the seats opposite him, both of them unchanged despite the months that had passed since he’d last seen them in person. His mother was dozing, her face gentle in sleep as she tried to regain her energy after the jet flight. Her head was resting lightly on David’s shoulder and he looked unusually soft for a moment, at least until his dark eyes flickered over to his son.

Calum bristled under his father’s heavy gaze, his heart clenching anxiously in his chest as his nails dug in harder. He didn’t like the way the King was watching him, so knowingly but also disapproving, like he could tell his plans had already gone awry. David’s dark eyes narrowed at the defiance on his son’s face and he leant closer in his seat, his ever-present black gloves come to rest lightly on his knees, his fingers flexing in a blatant threat.

“Tell me, Calum, do you recall our conversation in my study before you left for Claritas?” David demanded but he pressed on before his son had time to answer, his hands curling into fists. “It’s just that, after seeing those pictures of you with your supposed _rival_ at the Opening Gala, it seems more as though you planned to seduce him than execute the plan we discussed.”

“You mean the plan _you_ discussed,” Calum muttered, his heart rising into his throat when his father’s eyes flashed to his paling face. There was a moment of tense silence before the Prince squared his shoulders, refusing to be cowed by the growing rage in the King’s eyes; not when he was asking Calum to hurt _Ashton_... and not when David had never had any intention of loving his son, regardless of the Fire Prince’s survival.

“Ah,” his father said slowly, his expression flickering towards appraising now although the disgust lingering in his features was undeniable. “So you’ve succumbed too, just like your uncle Thomas. Your end will be slower though, I imagine. Prince Ashton seems like the sort of barbaric soul who likes to play with his food before he eats it.”

“Then you really know nothing about Ashton at all, do you?” Calum countered, the barest hint of a smirk touching his lips although his eyes remained cold. “I won’t hurt him, dad. I’ll do everything I can to win the Elevare and bring glory to Tenebris… but I won’t cause him any harm. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“He killed your uncle!” David snapped, loudly enough that Joy stirred for a moment before dropping back to sleep again.

“He killed a lot of people, dad… and so have you,” Calum said in a softer voice, aching and raw now although he refused to let his emotions colour his words. Michael’s thigh was a warm comforting weight pressed against his own and Calum exhaled shakily as he dragged his fingernails away from the bruises he’d pressed into his skin. “That doesn’t mean either of you aren’t worthy of forgiveness.”

“I don’t _need_ forgiveness,” David sneered, his voice dropping to a threatening murmur. “He really has you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he? Is your head so easily turned?”

“Ashton _hasn’t_ turned my head,” Calum said sharply, his hands trembling as his pulse roared in his ears. “You might be my father but you really don’t know me at all, do you?” His eyes widened as he realised what he was saying and he pressed his lips together hard, heart pounding. He never would have dreamt of speaking to his father before he’d been announced as champion of the Elevare and they both knew it. Something had changed between them – some rift which might one day become uncrossable – and Calum was powerless to stop it.

“Foolish boy,” David said softly, his tone almost gentle as he settled back in his seat. His fingers laced together and the Prince let out a shaky breath. “You’ve never been able to lie to me, my son. Your heart is very much on your sleeve. That’s a weakness you inherited from your mother.”

Calum turned away stubbornly, pressing his cheek to the cool glass of the transport as Claritas slipped by outside. They’d long-since left Aureum behind and the landscape became rugged as they neared the arena, built out on the rocky outskirts of the coastal city of Gravenwick, where the ancient building had stood for millennia. It had been purpose-built to hold the Elevare tournaments, colossal enough to seat over a hundred thousand spectators, all of whom would be staring at the two Princes in just a few short hours while the rest of Cerasus watched the live planet-wide broadcast.

Calum’s heart rose into his throat and he could barely breathe past it as the bruises on his thighs ached, throbbing in time with the rising roar of his pulse. For a long moment, he wished he could have completed the journey with Ashton instead, basking in the older boy’s pleasant company and sparkling hazel eyes as they playfully teased each other, filling Calum’s stomach with excited butterflies.

They felt like they were full on bats now, huge and leathery as they battered clumsily inside him, threatening to make him lose his lunch. He’d never known nerves like this before and his leg was jiggling worse than ever now, at least until Michael reached out blindly to rest his palm on the younger boy’s knee, his gaze still locked on the screen of his comm. Calum closed his eyes, his hand shakily covering his best friend’s as he took a steadying breath.

He would be fine. He would be strong and brave and proud because he had to be; for his nation, for his father, and for himself. He had no other choice.

His teeth sank into his bottom lip when the transport finally rolled to a stop outside the arena. A barricade had been set up to keep the press out and Calum was grateful for that as their driver spoke to the guards at the checkpoint before their vehicle was granted passage. Security measures had clearly been heightened in the wake of the Purgatio’s threats and the fact that none of the journalists or photographers could approach them was an unexpected benefit. Calum wouldn’t have to worry about Michael losing his temper or Ashton being upset by the reporters’ cruel words.

Calum could simply try and get himself in the right headspace to compete instead, no matter how difficult that felt in the tension of the transport. He could simply stand there in the sunshine – basking in the warmth that he rarely enjoyed in Tenebris – and breathe in the sea air, as soft as water.

His heart felt light with it as he exited the transport, too far away for the distant camera flashes of the press to bother him at all. He didn’t care when Michael and Mali were standing protectively on either side of him; when he could see the beautiful blue ribbon of ocean stretching across the horizon a few miles away, more tempting than anything… except perhaps Ashton.

Calum’s gaze settled on the older boy automatically and his eyes widened a little as he processed the fact that the inexorable pull he felt towards the Crown Prince was stronger than the lure of the ocean. Calum was well and truly screwed, and the worst part was that he couldn’t even bring himself to care when he was fairly certain that Ashton felt the same way.

He thought briefly of the bluish-white flames licking across the older boy’s trembling knuckles; his vibrant red curls soft between Calum’s fingers as the older boy leant closer, his head tilted to kiss him and… fuck, Calum couldn’t regret his dangerous words to his father for even a _second_ ; not when he held Ashton’s scarred heart in his palms, cradled like something precious… not when the older boy was _finally_ starting to trust him.

Ashton wasn’t too far away now, standing with his back to everyone else – his shoulders tense with nervousness – as he threw fireballs up into the air to burn off steam. They soared across the empty blue, burning away with a crackle as the smoke coiled, and Calum was utterly in awe of him, his dark gaze locked on the Crown Prince as he worked so hard to regain control of his powers.

Sierra lingered nearby, closer to him than the rest of the guests as they began to enter the arena through yet _another_ checkpoint. The older girl was dressed once more in her red leather jacket as she hovered behind Ashton, her fingertips glowing white with frost as she hesitated, trying to give him freedom he deserved while still being ready to keep him safe should the need arise.

When one of Ashton’s fireballs seared into the air with a vivid blue flame, everyone lingering outside the arena went silent as they stared up at it in awe. His magic was truly returning to him now, as surely as the tide, and Calum joined them in marvelling silently, at least until his gaze flickered to his father and his heart threatened to stop beating in his chest.

David was gazing at the strength of the Crown Prince’s abilities with an undeniable hunger in his eyes, so greedy for the sheer power crackling through Ashton’s veins. Calum tried to reassure himself with the fact that his father would never countenance sullying himself with the magic of someone he hated so much – especially after Ashton had inadvertently caused the death of the Prince’s uncle Thomas – but Calum couldn’t _quite_ keep his fear at bay as a surge of protectiveness rocketed through him.

He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t let David lay a single fingertip on Ashton.

Calum was going to keep the older boy safe, whatever the cost, and his determination only served to highlight just how gone he was for the Crown Prince, even after just a few months of knowing him. Ashton had made such a mess of Calum without even trying but... god, the younger boy couldn't resent him for it. He was too lost in trying to unpick the mystery of the Claritan Crown prince who continued to prove time and time again just how different he was to Calum’s initial expectations, and to the way the media portrayed him… because Ashton was soft and vulnerable, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly if he had any say in the matter.

He was just about the worst choice Calum could possibly make but it was already too late to turn back. The Prince could feel how soft he was for Ashton without even trying. Calum’s heart sang with it.

“Oh dear,” Michael said in a stage whisper when he noticed his best friend's preoccupation. His words startled Calum enough that he jumped noticeably and the older boy rolled his eyes, the fondness undeniable as Calum unwillingly tore his gaze away from Ashton. “Let’s leave lover boy to it, Mali. He’s gone all heart eyes again.”

Laura was standing nearby and Calum wasn't surprised in the slightest when Michael immediately made his way over to her, dragging Mali by the hand (which, fortunately, was no longer covered in razor-sharp metal). Laura's eyes sparkled when she noticed their approach and, despite the distance between them, Calum thought she might have been complimenting Michael's burgundy shirt. This was only confirmed when she grew a tiny flower with the same colour petals and tucked it carefully through his buttonhole.

Michael blushed the colour of a tomato as Mali smirked at the exchange, both of them comfortable now that David and Joy had already been ushered into the arena. Calum would need to go inside soon too and, as that thought made itself apparent, the happiness seeped out of him like the air from a balloon. Almost as soon as the nervousness unfurled inside Calum,

Ashton turned like someone had called his name. His hazel eyes settled gratifyingly on the Tenebran Prince and he cocked his head for a moment, the concern on his face outweighing any anxiety he felt as he ambled over, Sierra trailing behind him.

“Hey, Cal,” Ashton said with a weak smile. “Nervous?”

“Definitely,” Calum agreed, grinning faintly although he felt calmer when Ashton was looking at him like that, with so much kindness in his lovely eyes. “Guess it's time to bite the bullet, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ashton breathed, teeth worrying at his bottom lip as he looked down at his hand, letting one last tongue of blue flame lick across his knuckles before he extinguished it easily. “I think I'm ready as I'll ever be.”

“C’mon then, angel,” Calum murmured, his words soft enough that Sierra couldn’t hear. “Let’s get this over with.”

He led the way towards the side entrance where the champions and their guests were slowly being admitted through the checkpoint. There was a facial recognition system as well as a metal detector and Calum gritted his teeth at how long the monotonous procedure was likely to take, especially judging by the length of the queue. His leg was bleeding under his trousers – he could feel the material sticking to his thigh where his nails must have broken the skin earlier – and he winced a little, even as something warm unfurled inside him when Ashton leant subtly against him, his lips brushing chastely over the younger boy’s shoulder.

Michael winked at Calum in a decidedly un-subtle manner from where he was lined up in front of them, his green eyes glittering as he glanced down at the pretty flower Laura had grown for him. She was lingering beside him, her long fair hair in a neat plait which she idly twisted as she looked around her with interest, taking in the shiny corridor they were waiting in. It had been revamped just like the rest of the arena – a necessity since the Elevare would be attracting so much public interest and the Claritans liked nothing more than to be eye-catching.

Luke seemed to have got the memo too. He was standing in front of his sister, dressed in a black velvet jacket over a mostly unbuttoned shirt made from pearly grey silk. His leather trousers were tucked neatly into a pair of bronze-coloured boots that Mali was definitely staring at longingly from where she was queueing beside him.

There was a dark-haired man lingering next to Luke too, his blue eyes undeniably soft as they rested on the younger boy's face. Luke's shyness seemed to melt away in their company and Calum watched the three of them fondly as Luke gesticulated at something, the rings on his fingers catching the bright light of the corridor as he laughed at a joke the dark-haired man had told.

Calum found it hard to be scared of Niall these days, despite how anxious the older man’s presence had made him that day in the gym when he’d proved that he had empathic abilities. It still didn’t feel comfortable for Calum – still felt just a little too much like violation – but he knew Niall now; knew that the older man would never use his powers to cause harm. Niall was a good person, golden to the core, and his incredible talent in healing had gifted Ashton with the ability to walk again. Calum would thank Niall for that one day, once he’d plucked up the courage... although, judging by the faint grin the healer suddenly flickered his way, maybe the older man already knew how he felt.

Calum wouldn’t put it past him and he smiled back grudgingly, his heart still racing in his chest as he truly began to realise just how different Tenebris and Claritas were. What was frowned on in one nation was welcomed with open arms in another and it felt like he was never going to get used to it… and then he wondered if it mattered anyway. At least he was here, showing his face and _trying_ to learn about Claritan culture. That was more than any of the other Tenebran royals had done over the last century.

From beside him, Ashton let out a shaky sigh as he tensed up, clearly growing agitated and more nervous than ever at the length of time it was taking to get past security. His hazel eyes flickered warily over his shoulder as he glanced towards the blue sky outside and it was painfully evident that he was growing anxious about something – maybe the tournament, maybe the Purgatio, or maybe something else entirely – and Calum frowned as he wrapped his arm warmly around the older boy’s waist, uncaring if anyone noticed now. They were surrounded by friends and family, and the press weren't allowed in here... and Ashton _needed_ the comfort. Calum wasn't going to deny him that.

He could feel the older boy's scar faintly through the black t-shirt he was wearing and he smoothed his palm over it soothingly, his cheeks heating a little when Ashton stared up at him in shock, full lips parting. Calum just smiled crookedly, his dark eyes twinkling, and kept his palm resting there lightly until Ashton leant back into the contact, relaxing visibly. Clearly, people generally avoided acknowledging the injury that had almost ruined his life but Calum refused to do that.

The Crown Prince’s scars and dangerous past were part of him after all and, since Calum liked _all_ of Ashton, he didn’t see the point in ignoring the aspects that might have made him uncomfortable or sad. That was no way to repay the boy who made him feel like his heart was too big for his chest.

Calum wanted Ashton to feel _beautiful_ , damnit, and he was determined to make it happen.

Ashton deserved to love himself… and if this realisation and the softening in Calum’s chest was too frightening to consider right now, that was okay too. There would be plenty of time to work out what the Prince might or might not be feeling but that definitely wasn’t now, just an hour before the first task of a tournament that had already changed his life forever.

Calum needed to get his game face on.

He needed to _win_.

*

Ashton couldn’t stop blushing.

Ever since Calum’s palm had settled lightly on his skin out in the corridor, his cheeks had been as red as the roses Laura liked to grow so much. Sierra had slipped away once they’d filed inside to go through security and he’d been glad of that. She seemed so adept at noticing when he was experiencing a particularly strong emotion – and, okay, sure, maybe that _was_ one of the reasons Fletcher had hired her – but Ashton still didn’t particularly relish having her smirking at him whenever she caught him watching Calum like all of his dreams had just come true or something. His emotions frustrated and confused him, and he felt more than a little embarrassed by just how _gone_ he was for the younger boy but, unfortunately, Ashton didn’t appear to be able to control them. It seemed he was going to fall for the younger boy no matter how hard he resisted… and the Crown Prince had never been very good at resisting the things he desired.

Ashton wanted Calum so much that he ached with it. He had done since the very first night they met.

The changing rooms were a blessed relief after the crowded corridor but the silence was a little awkward as Ashton struggled into the outfit he’d been provided for the tournament. It was rather more tight-fitting than he was used to and he was trying not to look down at himself as he struggled with the zip, grimacing at the alien feeling of the material stretching across his limbs.

He cursed when he realised he couldn’t twist to pull the zip up, his back faintly protesting the movement. His cheeks flamed as he unlocked the cubicle he’d hidden himself in and stamped out into the changing room, only to stare wordlessly when he bumped right into Calum’s chest. The younger boy’s muscular arms came to wrap around him when Ashton’s momentum almost sent him tumbling and the Crown Prince couldn’t keep himself from blushing when he peered up at Calum shyly, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

“Sorry for walking into you,” Ashton said softly, carding his fingers lightly through his red curls. The younger boy’s eyes tracked the movement, his swallow audible with how close they were standing.

“Sorry for making you jump,” Calum countered, his eyes twinkling like he _wasn’t_ blushing too. “I was coming to see if you were okay actually, angel. You were grumbling kind of a lot.”

“It’s this hideous suit,” Ashton muttered, trying not to notice the way that Calum’s was hugging his muscular form quite so beautifully. “I can’t do the zip up with my stupid back like this.” He was pouting a little bit but it slipped from his face when the younger boy looked down at him curiously, his lips curving into a slight smirk.

“That’s pretty easily fixable, Ash,” Calum pointed out, his arms still wrapped warmly around him. Ashton let his forehead come to rest hesitantly on the Prince’s broad shoulder as the embarrassment darkened his cheeks. He shivered when he felt the gentle brush of Calum’s fingertips in the small of his back as he took hold of the zip and his face burnt hotter when Calum gently eased the zip up, taking a little longer than was probably necessary as he relished in the feeling of them standing so close like this.

“There we go,” Calum murmured but he didn’t step back. He kept his palms resting comfortingly on the older boy’s waist instead and Ashton wasn’t inclined to pull away. He liked the feeling of Calum’s hands on him, warm and secure, like he was trying to keep the Crown Prince safe. Calum made all of his worries feel so far away.

“Thank you, Cal,” Ashton murmured when he finally raised his head, hoping very much that his cheeks weren’t the same colour as his hair. “I can’t believe _this_ is what they were measuring us for.” He picked at the material with distaste although he definitely felt mollified now that his suit was no longer flapping around quite so ridiculously. “Isn’t it just the worst thing you’ve ever worn?”

“Quite possibly,” Calum agreed as he unwillingly released the older boy, his lips curving up into a tired smile as he sank down onto the bench nearby. “But they’ve presumably been designed like this for a reason, right? Even if they _do_ look like wet suits.”

“Dad told me they’re supposed to absorb kinetic energy,” Ashton offered, shooting his outfit a weak glare all the same. “That way, if we fall or something, we won’t get hurt so badly… which isn’t exactly reassuring.”

“They _are_ ugly though,” Calum admitted.

“Very ugly,” Ashton agreed, his hazel eyes warming when the younger boy huffed out a laugh although the amusement didn’t quite warm his tanned features. The Crown Prince was struck suddenly by how weary Calum looked as he sat there, almost like the two hour drive to Gravenwick had taken something from him.

“Maybe the next challenge will be some sort of fashion show and then we’ll actually get to wear something pretty,” Ashton joked lightly, relieved when Calum’s lips curved up into a smile. The older boy did a silly little twirl in his horrible outfit, beaming when he heard the Prince’s breathless burst of laughter. Calum’s chocolate brown eyes quickly returned to Ashton’s face when he realised he’d been caught checking the older boy out and Ashton hummed contentedly, reminded of the night at the Gala for a moment when he’d realised just how much he liked the feeling of Calum watching him like he was the only person in the room.

Ashton wilted a little when his eyes flickered down to where Calum’s fingers were digging into his thigh, hard enough that it must have hurt. The younger boy jerked in surprise when Ashton gently took his hand between both of his own, his thumbs smoothing over the palm soothingly as he pressed a brief kiss to Calum’s fingertips. The older boy’s hazel eyes remained soft and the Prince blushed, hanging his head as the bruises throbbed beneath the material.

“It’s not my _fingers_ that hurt,” Calum joked weakly when he felt Ashton’s lips lingering there. The older boy smiled a little sadly as he considered that although his eyes glittered with what _might_ have been mischief when he released Calum’s hand, freeing his own so that he could stroke teasingly over the warm skin of the younger boy’s throat, coaxing a shiver from him.

“Well, I can’t kiss your thighs _here_ , Cal,” he teased softly. “Anyone might walk in.”

When the younger boy simply blushed hotter and bit his lip to hide his smile, Ashton raised an eyebrow curiously, unable to completely suppress his smirk.

“Oh, you’d _like_ that?” he murmured, hazel eyes sparkling under the lights. “That’s worth remembering.”

He sauntered towards the door then, leaving Calum sitting there with his cheeks burning hotter than the flames simmering under Ashton’s skin. The electricity between them was undeniable now, so irresistible and enticing, and the Crown Prince could feel the heat of it melting his heart in his chest… but he’d be damned if he was going to confess how he was feeling now, right before what could well be one of the most important events of his life.

Ashton needed to be focused and that meant not getting painfully caught up in the beautiful boy still languishing on the bench behind him, no matter _how_ lovely he was.

“C’mon, Cal,” the older boy called from the doorway, trying to sound strong but probably sounding needy instead. He eased his fingers through the red curls Calum loved so much, a smile crinkling his face when the younger boy hurriedly closed the distance between them. “We better get moving.”

“What about a kiss for luck?” the Prince asked hopefully, his chocolate brown eyes glittering.

“In your dreams,” Ashton teased but he couldn’t quite stop himself from pressing his lips briefly to the younger boy’s cheek, dangerously close to the corner of Calum’s soft mouth. “Now c’mon, Cal. We’ve got a planet of people ready to watch us make fools of ourselves. We can’t keep them waiting.”

*

Ashton had never felt smaller in his life.

The arena might have looked large from the outside but the floor space itself was dizzying in its immensity. There were over a hundred-thousand pairs of eyes pinning him to the spot as he stood trembling beside Calum at the starting line, his hands curled into fists as he stared blankly ahead, fighting to keep his breathing under control.

The camera flashes had been blinding when the champions first stepped onto the arena floor but they’d faded now that the broadcast had begun, the cameras panning over the numerous obstacles the pair were expected to race through in order to win the challenge.

It was all a frightening blur to Ashton, his world reduced to jagged rocks and jets of flame; to crashing waves and the threatening whisper of unnatural wind swaying the long rippling grass that had presumably been grown to inhibit their movements. Ashton was almost certain that he would fall flat on his face the moment the task began but he was trying to hide how terrified he felt; trying to appear even a fraction as confident as Calum did beside him, standing gazing out over the arena with something that might have looked like mild amusement if his dark eyes hadn’t been flickering about quite so frantically.

Ashton didn't feel brave in the slightest but it didn't matter. No one could tell the difference from this distance; not even his friends and family would be able to see how badly he was shaking from the VIP area, although the photographers and reporters filling the press box just above the starting line might have a better chance.

All Ashton could do right now was keep his head up, his shoulders strong, and his back straight; to radiate pride, the way he’d been raised… to keep going and see this through to the end, no matter how much his heart was threatening to shred itself apart in his chest.

He could see a worrying number of healers hovering around the edges of the arena – Niall included – along with a handful of people whose abilities allowed them to create forcefields should the need arise. Sierra would be around somewhere too, keeping an eye on the Crown Prince although she had been warned not to interfere, especially after the champions had signed their names in blood on the binding magical contract.

The grimness of the healers’ faces worried Ashton but he tried to focus on them rather than the closest spectators sitting in the stands around him. He was too frightened to see the inevitable hatred saturating their expressions, especially after all of the bile the press had been spewing once he’d been announced the Claritan champion. The pictures of the aftermath of his explosion on the Boneflats had been circulating again and Ashton felt raw under the crushing gazes of the onlookers, certain they must hate him. He couldn’t blame them for it though; not after the things he’d done during the war. Ashton hated himself too.

“ _Psst_.”

The sound jarred him from his thoughts and he glanced up in surprise, his cheeks heating a little when he saw Calum looking at him worriedly. The younger boy cocked his head to one side, his dark curls soft where they were falling across his forehead as he watched the Crown Prince inquisitively. Ashton shrugged fractionally, nodding as a weak smile touched his lips.

It felt good to know Calum cared about his happiness, even if they _were_ about to compete against each other in front of the entire planet. That didn’t mean Ashton’s brief fluttering of warmth was worthless though. It was the little things that mattered most sometimes – like Calum’s dimples creasing his cheeks and _not_ the crushing weight of the Elevare – and that was worth holding on to.

With Calum by his side, Ashton knew he’d get through this somehow.

A sudden hush fell as a spotlight burst into existence, illuminating the figure of a man clad in an impressive number of glitter-encrusted silk flowers who could only have been Harry Styles.

“Welcome, everyone, to the first task of this year’s Elevare, the Impedimentum!” he cried into his microphone, his voice amplified around the arena, ringing out loud and clear over the murmurs as everyone stared at his outfit in stunned disbelief. Even in Claritas, the man’s wardrobe was legendary and Ashton felt a weak smile curving his lips when he glanced over at Calum, taking in the vague fondness on the younger boy's face as he watched Harry with amusement.

“For those poor folks who don't know me, I am Harry Styles – comms personality, your commentator for all things Elevare, and the newest contestant on A Starlet In Claritas. Yes, that’s right, everyone! I was picked! You can tune in tomorrow night to watch me win the first round and start down the path to becoming the first openly gay male starlet in this fine nation. I repeat, tomorrow night -” He faltered and the muffled sound of grumbling could be heard before he continued with a slightly sullen-sounding: “Okay, anyway, back to the task at hand – if you’ll pardon the pun!”

Ashton groaned softly, rolling his eyes although his face softened when he saw Calum biting the inside of his cheek, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Right, now as I was saying,” Harry continued, flicking his long dark hair back with a perfectly manicured hand. “In the arena below us, at the very start of a wide array of dangerous and difficult obstacles, our two handsome Princes are waiting to begin the Impedimentum. The goal of this task is for the champions to complete this obstacle course in the shortest amount of time, while avoiding the booby traps and making it through the challenge in one piece! The champions should aim to display their magical prowess, grit, bravery, and resilience, and any other adjectives they might be able to think of… although I imagine their main goal is to avoid being smeared on camera in front of millions of people. That one’s a free tip for you from me, boys! Good luck – because you’ll certainly need it.”

The tension in the arena was rising now, infecting Ashton as the adrenaline started to course through him. His chest felt tight, his hazel eyes widening as the enormity of the situation finally began to sink in. Beside him, Calum was bouncing on the balls of his feet, excited and invigorated by how absolutely _terrified_ he felt, like he’d never known an atmosphere quite like this one before.

“If everyone will look at the comm screen, you’ll be able to see a countdown in the bottom corner. Do you all know what it’s for? I’ll tell you what it’s for!” Harry’s eyes were sparkling, magnified times a thousand by the enormous screen behind him that was displaying the live broadcast showing all across Cerasus. He was clearly enjoying himself. “This countdown shows the last thirty seconds ticking away before the first Elevare task in a century begins! Our judges are ready, the healers are on hand, and our champions are clearly raring to go!”

The watching crowd cheered, the sound rippling around the arena as Ashton exchanged one last wide-eyed glance with Calum, his heart rising chokingly into his throat. Ashton watched with bated breath as Harry counted the last ten seconds out loud, his voice echoing strangely as the lights in the arena brightened, focusing on the two champions as they tensed, preparing to launch themselves over the starting line.

“With only a few seconds left to go,” Harry began, his tone saturated with excitement and pride. “Our countdown has reached zero so, without further ado, let the tournament begin! Champions, on your marks, get set… **go**!”

The klaxon sounded and Ashton threw himself over the line, already racing down the gentle slope as fast as his legs could carry him although his movements were severely hindered by the long grass. It wrapped lovingly around his ankles, doing its best to trip him as he fought it off with little bursts of blue flame, cursing the enchanted plants under his breath although he was sure Laura would have been fascinated by them. Calum was faring much the same beside him, his tanned face twisted with annoyance as he tore his way through the weeds, using brute force to clear a path for himself.

Ashton was out of breath by the time he made it to the bottom of the slope, trying to avoid looking up at the comm screen and seeing his own face – already flushed with over-exertion – displayed back at him, along with the timer counting the seconds passing with worrying speed.

There was a small meadow stretching up ahead, fit to bursting with vibrant electric blue blooms that Ashton recognised instantly. His step faltered as he slowed, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip at the sight of so many mortifern flowers in one place. The carnivorous plants were absolutely lethal, secreting an incredibly potent acid that had been harvested and used frequently during the Boneflats War. They were native to Claritas which would explain why Calum was still sprinting towards them without fear and Ashton’s heart felt like it had stopped beating in his chest as he watched the younger boy fling himself headlong into the flowers.

There was a split-second – before Calum threw his first water ball in an effort to flatten the closest blooms – where Ashton could have warned him against it… but this was a contest and he had Claritas’ honour to think about. The Crown Prince pressed his lips together tightly, no matter how guilty he felt, and watched in horror as the flowers soared up into the air, growing tenfold as they absorbed the magic.

Ashton welcomed the distraction for what it was, so desperately grateful that Laura had taught him so much about plants during their childhood because it had saved him from making Calum’s mistakes. The younger boy was struggling free of the thick stalks now, his suit already singed in places where the acid was burning through the thick material. The mortiferns swayed around him, their petals snapping shut as the acid spewed down onto the ground below.

The flowers surrounding Ashton were still dormant, barely reaching waist height and in stark contrast to the plants tormenting Calum. The Crown Prince was so grateful he hadn’t used his flames to burn a path, no matter how tempting it might have seemed. The mortiferns thrived off magic but he knew that if he moved slowly, weaving between the stalks and trying to keep the acid welling inside the blooms away from his skin, he should be able to make it through unscathed.

“- and now Ashton is in the lead!” Harry was crying excitedly. “The Tenebran champion is at a clear disadvantage with this obstacle but he seems to be recovering quickly! Calum looks a little worse-for-wear but the healers are approaching and – oh, Calum doesn’t seem to want their help. He’s still racing off after his competitor!”

The words sent a thrill of _something_ searing through Ashton’s veins and he sped up as much as he could, finally breaking free of the last mortiferns with only minimal burns. Calum was lagging a little behind him, clearly in pain from the various acid burns he’d sustained to his torso and arms but he still closed the distance between them with relative ease, his longer strides and Ashton’s aching back quickly levelling the playing field once more.

Beyond the meadow, there was a narrow strip of desert that quickly gave way to a rocky barricade stretching up achingly high into the evening sky. A wind swept across the expanse of sand, the dry heat drawing a panting gasp from Ashton as he raced towards the towering stack of rocks. The closer he got, the more it became apparent that the barricade was clearly the work of someone with powerful abilities. The stone was twisted into unnatural shapes, providing just enough convenient handholds that the champions could be expected to climb it without falling to their deaths.

Ashton was just beginning to wonder if there was a way around it instead of struggling over the top when Harry’s voice piped up once more, helpfully alerting the Princes to what could otherwise have proved a missed opportunity.

“For those watching at home, if you look carefully, you’ll be able to see a shining medallion suspended over the barricade. The first champion to reach this will be granted an additional ten minutes during the second task which could be the difference between winning or losing and – oh, would you look at them go?! They’re like a pair of mountain goats!”

Harry’s statement attracted enough laughter that Ashton could hardly hear himself think as he worked on hauling himself up the rocky barricade. He trembled with adrenaline as his fingertips bit into the stone, the muscles in his back screaming at him as he scrabbled not to lose his footing, his spine aching at the stretch. Calum was struggling beside him, his teeth gritted with pain from his burns in the seconds before he dropped suddenly, falling the few metres he’d climbed back down onto the sand below.

His suit absorbed the impact the way it had been designed but he was still winded and the crowd gasped in shock as Ashton froze. He clung to the rock, staring down in horrified silence with bated breath until Calum pushed himself slowly to his feet. The younger boy shot the rocky barricade a dark look before shaking his head in disgust and limping off parallel to it, clearly deciding that he would make do without the ten minute bonus time being offered for the next challenge.

Ashton’s relief made him feel dizzy as he scurried up the last few boulders, the sweat sticking his red curls to his forehead as the hot wind wrapped around him, tearing at his suit as it threatened to drag him down onto the sand far below. He gritted his teeth and fought against it, snatching the medallion out of the air with a burst of exultation before he slipped it hastily around his neck, already biting his lip as he tried to work out the best way down.

Calum was ahead of him again, bouncing once more on the balls of his feet as he gazed out over the next obstacle. The rocky ground stretching before him seemed relatively harmless at first, if a little perilous to traverse, but Ashton withdrew that statement when a sudden burst of flame erupted from between the rocks. Calum flinched visibly, his muscles bunching tighter and tighter with every pillar of fire rocketing upwards. Ashton watched it play out silently, still struggling against the wind as he bided his time, trying to work out the pattern between the tongues of flame. It seemed to be a puzzle of some sort and the Crown Prince watched it for a moment longer from his vantage point, counting each searing column of flame as it roared up into the crackling air before he felt ready to begin his descent from the barricade.

It was quicker on the way down – mostly because it was more of a controlled fall now that he trusted his suit to protect him – but it still jarred his back painfully when he landed on the sand and he winced as he limped towards Calum, his hazel eyes locked determinedly on the amber flames. His own fire crawled across his fists as he came to a stop where the sand met the cracked rock, his magic burning a stunning cerulean as the medallion rested against his chest, right over his fiercely beating heart.

Calum must have worked out the pattern of the flames already because he darted forwards unexpectedly over the uneven ground, drawing a gasp from the watching crowd as he leapt over one of the cracks, narrowly avoiding being burnt to a crisp. There was little time between the bursts of fire and Ashton already knew there was no way he’d be able to make it across without injury; not with the way his back was hurting as the baking lights shone down on him, making him squint wearily.

“- another near miss for Calum there! Ouch – that one looked like it hurt!” Harry commented wryly. “Now we can see Ashton approaching the obstacle. He's clearly thinking hard and – ah, everyone might want to duck for cover. Let’s hope we’re not about to get a repeat of the Crown Prince’s party piece; am I right, folks?”

The crowd laughed jeeringly but Ashton did his best to ignore them as he extended a trembling hand, focusing on the heat of the flames as they erupted into the air. He could control them; he _knew_ he could. He'd learnt his own limits the hard way at the end of the Boneflats War and he knew he'd never make that mistake again, no matter how easy it was to slip up and feed his fire too much energy.

Ashton was going to pass through safely and prove them all wrong because, quite suddenly, that was the only thing that mattered anymore.

He approached the columns of flame cautiously, getting used to the strength of them as they fought against him. Ashton calmed, his hands no longer shaking as he twisted his wrist, coaxing them into a sizeable fireball which he kept floating in the air above him. Without the flame, the cracks in the rock simply seeped smoke now and Ashton clambered across them easily, becoming suddenly aware that – aside from his panting breaths and the roar of the flames above his head – the arena had fallen deadly silent.

Even Harry’s commentary had stopped now, his face pale and wary behind the sparkling flowers as he watched the Crown Prince’s careful trek across the rocks, his movements slowed by the fireball. Every time Ashton reached another crack in the stone, he lured the flames up to join those already coiling above him and, whenever he was far enough away from the previous fissure, he released any fire that was no longer a threat to him.

It was a methodical system and meant that at no point was he likely to over-exert himself the way he’d done during the war, even if it _was_ frustratingly time-consuming. Calum was already nearing the far end of the obstacle and Ashton gritted his teeth as he slowly closed the distance between them, not wanting to rush and lose control, even if Sierra _was_ most likely lurking close by with her ice magic at the ready.

He knew he was safe when Harry started his commentary again, sounding enthusiastic and excitable once more as the relief coursed through him, and Ashton knew exactly how he felt. The crowd were murmuring now, no longer scornful but appraising as he finally released the last bursts of fire back safely into the cracks slashed across the rocky ground.

Ashton stepped onto the packed earth with a great sigh of relief which quickly caught in his throat when he finally let his gaze travel to the next obstacle waiting for him. It was the last one by the looks of it and his heart sank at the sight of the lake stretching out in front of him. It was deep and dizzyingly vast, and the water was churning violently, the heavy waves slapping against the ground as Ashton took a scurrying step backwards, his face paling.

He'd always insisted he hated the water which was why he’d never learnt to swim but that wasn't the truth; in all honesty, he was simply terrified of it. The very idea of floating suspended over who knew _what_ was enough to send him panicking and he couldn't stand the idea of the entire planet watching him have a meltdown over the idea of swimming now. It made him feel sick.

Calum was already cutting easily through the waves, his abilities allowing him to shoot straight through the water like a bullet although – when he jerked suddenly to a stop, the wave that had been carrying him abruptly motionless with a mere flick of his fingers – the older boy definitely took notice. A scaled ruby-coloured tail had just flicked out of the water ahead of the Tenebran Prince and, although Ashton had no idea what kind of creature it might belong to, by the way Calum’s face had drained of colour as the crowd crowed in fearful delight, it seemed to be the mortifern situation in reverse. Clearly, it was better if Ashton didn’t risk going near the water at all.

The lake seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see but… surely there had to be a way round it. Calum hadn't been forced to climb the barricade after all and Ashton would _drown_ if he ventured into the lake, sea monsters or not. There _had_ to be an alternative route and he searched for it frantically, tuning out Harry's gleeful commentary as his eyes finally settled on a narrow dusty track leading around the outskirts of the lake.

The water was churning more violently along that side, clearly home to whatever horrifying creatures were lurking in its depths, and Ashton gritted his teeth as he set off at a run, his back aching with every jarring step as the burning lights glared down on him.

The crowd let out a sudden gasp, indicating that either Calum had encountered difficulties or the sea monster had finally shown itself but there was no way of knowing for sure; not when Ashton’s pulse was roaring so loudly in his ears that the rest of the world seemed silent. He paled as he pushed himself harder, too frightened to risk turning back as he hurtled across the muddy ground, cursing when he realised how dangerously slippery it had become as he ran closer to the lake.

He only sprinted faster when he reached the section where the waves were breaking most aggressively against the shore, his heart rising into his throat as he kept his hazel gaze locked straight ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of red scales under the surface; the blink of an enormous yellow eye that narrowed as he passed. Ashton shot a fireball at the emerging scale-covered limb without slowing, his panic lending him wings as he flew past the lake, leaving the lethal waters far behind him.

Calum had long since reached the shore but his injuries had definitely got the better of him now and he was barely jogging as he staggered up the final slope, his hair plastered to his skull, his movements once more inhibited by the long rippling grass that had made their descent at the start of the Impedimentum so arduous… but even despite the weeds and his burns, Calum would reach the finish line long before Ashton did if the Crown Prince didn’t do something to slow him down.

With barely a thought, Ashton flung his hand out and twisted his fingers, watching with satisfaction as a burst of blue flame snaked out in front of him, searing easily through the long grass as it cut off Calum’s path to the finish line. The younger boy stumbled to a stop, his eyes widening with shock for a moment before they narrowed as he turned to face his competitor, the barest hint of a smirk touching his lips.

Ashton had used the Prince’s momentary surprise to hurry closer but his face was paler as the pain rocketed through him, worsening with every step. When Calum threw his own palm out in answer, Ashton was too exhausted to do much more than flinch when a sudden wave of lake water crashed over him, throwing him off his feet.

He cursed as he smashed down onto his back, all of the air driven from his lungs as he slid painfully down the slope, his trembling fingers tearing uselessly at the grass. The pain in his spine was more urgent now, his eyes prickling with angry tears as he watched Calum hurtling up to the top of the hill, tearing at the weeds wrapping around his legs as he fought through them with renewed vigour.

Ashton tossed one last weak flame after the younger boy but it was no good. Calum extinguished it with a frustratingly lazy wave of his hand, the water spraying out from his fingertips and reducing the Crown Prince’s magic to steam. Calum didn’t even grace the older boy with a second glance as he sprinted over the finish line and Ashton cursed as he rolled over painfully onto his stomach, struggling onto his hands and knees in the wet grass. The only benefit of Calum half-drowning him was that the enchantment holding the plants no longer seemed to be working because the grass was docile now... unless it already knew that he'd lost the challenge. What was the point in trying to throttle him when he’d already humiliated himself in front of the planet?

Dimly, Ashton realised that the crowd was cheering for Calum, a hundred-thousand voices echoing deafeningly around the arena as his pulse finally calmed enough for the roar of blood to quieten. He could almost feel the shift of focus as the spectators watched Calum instead of him and that gave him the strength he needed to get his feet under him, a pained sound tearing itself free when he tried to straighten up. He’d _definitely_ be spending the night in Niall’s medical bay but he couldn’t even bring himself to care when he was hurting this much.

One of the healers was approaching him tentatively now but Ashton shook his head sharply, refusing to show how vulnerable he felt until he’d finished this damn challenge once and for all.

The grass remained meek as he lurched up the hillside, his teeth gritted against the pain as his sweaty hair fell down into his eyes. His cheeks were streaked with tears and mud, and just a little blood, and his hands trembled with adrenaline and sheer exhaustion. He felt tired enough to sleep for ten years once this gruelling task was finally completed and the thought of rest – and hopefully some very strong pain relief – was what gave Ashton the final push he needed to limp over the finish line.

Almost the moment he’d finished the task, his knees gave way and he crumpled, doing nothing to save himself. He would’ve fallen flat on his face if a pair of arms hadn’t wrapped securely around him and he glanced up blearily at his saviour as they lay him down gently on the ground. He couldn’t make out who it was with how bright the lights were overhead; all he could see was a shock of dark hair and Ashton frowned groggily, too exhausted to force his eyes open wider.

“Cal?” he mumbled, his cheeks heating a little when he heard a gentle huff of laughter.

“Not quite, Ash,” a familiar voice said warmly and it took Ashton a moment to place it.

“Hey, Niall,” he mumbled, eyes sliding shut again. “I messed my back up.”

“You did a bit, yeah,” the older man said wryly. “You did great though, Ash… although really, jumping down from the barricade like that? You missed being my patient _that_ much?”

“Shut up, Niall,” Ashton grimaced although he smiled a little when the dark-haired man unzipped the back of his suit, his palms settling lightly on his sore back. Warmth seeped through the muscles and Ashton relaxed as the pain faded. “Thank you,” he murmured, his cheeks heating a little when the older man zipped his suit back up, reminding him of the moment he’d shared with the Tenebran Prince before the task had started. “Is Cal okay?”

“On the whole, I think so,” Niall replied as he helped the Crown Prince into a sitting position. “He’s just getting healed himself although I think he wants to come over here. He just got told off for trying to escape.”

“That sounds like Cal,” Ashton admitted, laughing a little although he bit his lip nervously when he finally risked getting to his feet again. He was stunned when the crowd cheered for him too and his cheeks heated up embarrassingly when he turned in time to see Calum limping over, still sore and aching, and smiling his crinkly-eyed smile all the same.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Niall muttered, patting Ashton briefly on the elbow. “Come to the medical bay tonight though, okay? We’ll make sure you did no lasting damage.”

With that, the healer departed, leaving Ashton to face Calum with a strange cocktail of guilt and eagerness flooding through him. The younger boy looked just as bone-tired as the Crown Prince but his dimples were still creasing his cheeks when he came to a stop in front of Ashton, his dark hair drying fluffy under the heat of the lights.

“Good job, Cal,” the older boy said warmly, pleasantly surprised that he felt no bitterness at all. “Knew you’d do amazing.”

“You gave me a run for my money,” Calum said fairly, his dark eyes twinkling. “What was with those bloody flowers though?! Damn, angel, give a guy some warning next time.”

“Not a chance, curly,” Ashton said smugly, reaching out to touch the younger boy’s soft hair before he thought better of it with so many eyes on them. “Can’t go helping my rival, can I? This _is_ a competition after all.”

“So fraternising with the enemy is out of the question?” Calum asked innocently, his long eyelashes fluttering. Ashton huffed out an unwilling laugh, his cheeks heating as he blushed.

“You better hope the cameras can't pick up what we're saying,” Ashton said softly. “Or you’re in _so_ much trouble.”

“Is that a promise?” Calum asked instantly, one hand settling on his hip as he cocked his head curiously. The older boy swallowed, his stomach filling once more with butterflies even as the weariness he could feel threatened to overwhelm him.

“I was sort of hoping you’d be able to tell _me_ that actually,” Ashton murmured, his fingertip trailing teasingly over the younger boy’s chest as he sidled past him. “Maybe we should discuss this later, curly, without all these cameras. They might be a bit much, even for you.”

Calum pretended to be offended although the redness of his cheeks ruined it somewhat and Ashton grinned as he ambled away, heading for Sierra where she'd just appeared in front of him.

“Nice one, Your Illustriousness,” she said gleefully as he closed the distance between them. “Awesome job with the fire back there. I’m really proud of you.”

“Why thank you, Fearless Protector!” Ashton replied, almost giddy with relief now that the challenge was over. His dimples were creasing his cheeks so deeply that it ached a little. “I’m very glad I didn’t blow everyone up again.”

“Yeah, that would’ve sucked,” Sierra said solemnly although her eyes were still sparkling with pride. “You look like crap, Ash.”

“I feel it,” he said heavily but he was still smiling. “Can we leave now?”

“I think the judges need to do their thing first,” she said hesitantly. “Although it does seem a little redundant in this case. It seems mean pitting you against Calum when he has such long legs. You had no chance in a running race!”

“That’s how everyone will remember this terrible loss,” Ashton said, laying a hand dramatically over his heart as he let out a weak giggle. “Crown Prince Ashton failed because of his tiny legs.”

He was still grinning when Harry stepped down onto the arena floor, looking more fabulous than ever as his sparkling outfit glimmered under the lights. He was clutching another golden envelope - this one presumably containing the name of the champion who had won the challenge, not that anyone was in any doubt - and Ashton tuned out a little as he stood there before the judges, his hazel eyes flickering automatically towards Calum.

The younger boy was watching him too, his dark curls fluffier than ever, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. His cheeks flushed prettily when Harry called out his name and the Tenebrans in the arena went wild, and Ashton couldn’t help himself when he reached to shake Calum’s hand, holding on for _far_ longer than the situation warranted as the boys grinned at each other.

“Not bad, curly,” he murmured, his voice almost lost beneath the roar of the crowd. Calum smiled as the last of the reservation in his eyes melted away, leaving the chocolate brown shining underneath. He glowed under the blinding lights and Ashton was powerless to tear his gaze away from Calum’s beautiful face.

All he could think of was his lips brushing the younger boy’s cheek; Calum’s fingertips trailing teasingly across his skin; the heat in the Prince’s dark eyes on the night they’d first met.

He swallowed audibly, the flush spreading down his throat as he took a deep breath, willing himself to keep calm. Calum’s gaze flickered down to track the movement of his broad chest and Ashton’s smirk was impossible to suppress when the younger boy bit his lip again, his hands clenching reflexively at his sides like he was trying to keep himself from reaching for the Crown Prince.

Calum cocked his head to one side curiously when he caught the older boy’s gaze and Ashton hummed, pretending to consider it for a moment before he nodded fractionally as the butterflies in his stomach went wild.

The next quarter of an hour passed in a blur of applause and smiling faces; of healers ensuring they were uninjured and hydrated; of their friends and family rushing down to congratulate the pair of them before they were bundled back towards the changing rooms, ready for showers and clean clothes.

The hot water beating down on Ashton’s upturned face did nothing to calm his racing heart but he tried to keep his cool as he washed the grime away, relishing in the feeling of being clean once more. He could hear Calum showering in the cubicle next to him and it worried him just how distracting he found it; the thought of all that tanned skin, stretching uninterrupted for miles as the Prince’s hands slid over his skin and… fuck, Ashton wanted Calum to touch _him_ like that.

He bit his knuckle to keep his whimper in but he wasn’t quick enough and he cringed when the water next door cut off suddenly. There was a moment of silence before Calum’s voice could be heard, muffled thanks to the panel separating them: “You okay in there, angel?”

Ashton’s hands were shaking when he turned his shower off too, his hazel eyes widening when he heard the creak of Calum’s cubicle door swinging open. Ashton reached for his towel clumsily, his heart pounding as he wrapped it around his waist, hoping it would do a good enough job of covering him. His red curls were damp, his bottom lip sore from how hard he’d been biting it.

He was blushing before he’d even opened his own door, his trembling hands knotted in the soft material of his towel as he dragged his gaze across Calum’s chest, taking in the water droplets clinging to the toned muscles before his eyes settled on the younger boy’s flushed face.

“Ash?” Calum whispered, like he was hardly daring to hope.

“ _Cal_ ,” Ashton whined and, somehow, that was all it took.

He wasn’t sure who’d moved first but the end result was the same: Calum’s fingers tangling reverently in the older boy’s wet hair as Ashton stretched up on his tiptoes to kiss him. It felt long overdue which might have explained why Ashton _already_ felt so hot and he couldn’t resist parting his lips for Calum, so easy for it as the Prince walked him slowly back against the wall, his tongue stroking into the older boy’s mouth.

“Just say no if you want me to stop, angel,” Calum murmured when he broke away to breathe, his dark eyes glitter-soft as he gazed down at Ashton, taking in the Crown Prince’s parted lips and panting breaths. Ashton’s hands were resting warmly on the younger boy’s shoulders, a shudder running through him when Calum’s palm rubbed gently down the length of his scar, not scared at all of the old injury that had sent so many others running for the hills.

Calum looked at Ashton like he thought he was something beautiful; not someone to be feared or scorned.

“Please, Cal. I don’t want you to stop,” Ashton breathed, his voice breaking when the younger boy sucked a kiss into his throat, his tongue swiping hot over the skin. “ _Please_.”

“I’ve got you, angel,” Calum whispered, his hand still smoothing comfortingly over the older boy’s spine as Ashton pressed up against him, wanting him closer. “You’re safe with me.”

He spread his palms greedily over Calum’s lower back, his cheeks heating with colour when he realised that there was no lock on the changing room door. Anyone could walk in and see them like this, tangled together against the wall with the younger boy’s fingers in Ashton’s hair and the older boy’s tongue sliding into Calum’s mouth, and the reality of someone catching them like this drew a moan from Ashton, the sound weak with lust.

“Cal,” he whimpered, voice cracking when the younger boy’s hands smoothed over his chest, his fingers dragging warmly over the tanned skin. “Cal, someone might see -”

“Yeah? You wanna stop?” Calum murmured, his hips rocking forwards teasingly for a moment as Ashton’s head hit the wall. A broken sound escaped him as his shaking hands fell clumsily to the younger boy’s waist and his cheeks flamed when he accidentally knocked Calum’s towel loose. It dropped down onto the damp tiles but the Prince didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, even despite the scars on his thighs... not that the older boy could blame him. If he’d looked the way Calum did naked, he would’ve been shameless too.

Ashton whined low in his throat when the younger boy pressed closer, clutching the Prince’s hips like he’d fall down without the contact. His eyes fluttered shut when Calum ducked down to kiss him, his fingers tangled in the vibrant red curls as his tongue slipped into the older boy’s mouth.

Calum’s hands on his skin felt like heaven and it was all Ashton could do to keep from moaning when the younger boy’s fingers drifted under his towel, his palms gliding smoothly over the older boy’s trembling thighs.

“ _More_ ,” Ashton pleaded, his eyes falling shut when the Prince dropped down to his knees in front of him with a smirk curving his full lips. Ashton’s heart felt like it was trying to force its way free from his ribcage with how hard it was pounding and he whimpered when the younger boy’s thumbs stroked over the sensitive skin of his inner thighs as he leant forwards to kiss Ashton’s hip. “Fuck, Cal, _please_.”

Calum grinned as he tugged the older boy’s towel away, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Thought you’d never ask, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Cashton are totally ignoring my story plan but I'm very excited to see where they'll end up and I hope everyone else is too :')  
> I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter <3


	7. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!  
> I hope you'll enjoy this chapter - it's a bit angstier than I'd planned but hopefully it's okay!  
> As always, thank you to Laura for helping me! This story wouldn't exist without her 🖤
> 
> Trigger warning for brief mentions of terrorist attacks, mentions of self-harm and anxiety, and mild sexual content.

**_I couldn't tell you why,_ **

**_But I'm yours until I die._ **

_\- Fire Up The Night, New Medicine_

 

A week had passed since the first task and their world had changed irrevocably once more. The Purgatio had attacked one of the busiest transport hubs in central Aureum and the city had ground to a halt as the Claritan Constabulary renewed their hunt for the ringleaders of the group who had now been branded as terrorists. Even within the walls of the palace, the air crackled with tension and the grimness had infected everyone, leaving them tired and stressed.

Laura spent most of her time in the gardens whenever she could escape from her healer training, much more comfortable under the vastness of the sky than trapped in the apartment, listening to the reporters on the comms channels detailing the Purgatio’s attack in horrible detail as her parents worried in low voices.

The sun was setting overhead now and the fiery skies smouldered as Laura lingered on the bench, her head bowed as her fair hair tumbled down around her shoulders. She was cold now after so long not moving but she was trying to hold off going inside for as long as she could, enjoying the breeze and the scent of pollen as she fiddled uneasily with the hem of her jumper.

The scars on her hands were painfully apparent in this light, even despite the fingerless gloves she was wearing, and she sighed heavily as she looked down at them, a frown creasing her forehead as she fought not to remember their making… but it grew harder with every passing day now, especially when the Purgatio were so active, and the news channels were drifting once more towards carnage and fear. Laura didn’t want to live through that again. She wasn’t sure she _could_.

The breeze stirred the tulips scattered through the grass around her and she watched them fondly for a moment. They hadn’t been present when she’d slipped outside after dinner but she was proud of how beautiful they were, each one a different rich hue as the sun finally sank beneath the horizon.

The soft sound of footsteps reached her ears and Laura turned her head sharply, relaxing when she saw that it was only Michael. He looked unusually timid as he picked his way towards her through the tulips, taking care not to crush any of them in the semi-darkness. His blond hair looked soft tonight, his emerald eyes tired and strained, just like everyone else’s in the palace.

She wanted to smooth the sadness from his features but she wasn’t sure it was possible, and something softened in her chest when she took in his chipped nail varnish and the way his oversized denim jacket fell down over his hands, making him appear smaller than he was.

“Evening, sparky,” Laura said softly as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “What colour are your sparks tonight?”

Michael smiled faintly as he dropped down onto the bench beside her, faintly amused by the now-familiar question. The older girl often greeted him like this nowadays and Michael had found that he quite liked it. No one else asked how he was feeling in such a casual manner, without making him feel ashamed or embarrassed, and the awe he felt lingered bittersweet in his face as Laura watched him, her heart aching as it became apparent once more just how emotionally isolated he had become after a childhood spent with the Tenebran King and Queen.

Michael twisted his fingers in the cool air hesitantly, trailing reddish-violet sparks that sputtered out before they touched the tulips. They were a very pretty colour but, by the slight tensing of the younger boy’s shoulders, Laura assumed they didn’t indicate anything particularly positive.

“Hungry?” she guessed jokingly, her voice soft. Michael huffed out a breathless laugh, hesitating for a moment before his head came to rest on the older girl’s shoulder, his soft hair brushing the underside of her jaw.

“Nervous,” he corrected softly. “Scared.”

“Why?” Laura whispered, her blue eyes sad as she took in the hastily-suppressed emotions simmering just below the surface on his pale face. All his life he’d been taught to hide his feelings and it hurt to see him struggling against those teachings now, his emerald eyes just a little too damp as he twisted on the bench to face her.

“I want to… to…” Michael’s voice broke off and he shot her a helpless look, clearly floundering. He seemed unused to someone paying him so much attention without expecting anything in return and it drew a sigh from Laura as she reached out cautiously, laying her palm gently across his overheated cheek.

He squeezed his green eyes tightly shut, revealing soft lavender lids as he swallowed audibly, his trembling fingers twisting in his lap. Laura smoothed her thumb soothingly over his cheekbone and he shivered in response, his long eyelashes fluttering when he braved meeting her gaze again.

“I want to kiss you,” he confessed, the words fast and small, like he was afraid she’d laugh at him if he spoke with more conviction. He looked ashamed and Laura's shoulders slumped a little as she reached up with her free hand to gently cradle his face, the touch soft enough that he calmed.

“Oh, Mikey,” she breathed as her long hair fluttered in the wind, her blue eyes growing damp. “You can kiss me. I’ve wanted it for weeks.”

A little shocked sound escaped him in the moments before their lips met and Laura sighed into it, her fingers tangling gently in the short hairs growing at the base of his skull. Michael kissed the way he laughed; so bright and bursting with joy, like the warmth inside him was overflowing.

The first stars had flickered to life when they finally parted, both of them blushing and breathless as their foreheads came to rest together. Neither of them were quite ready to break the contact just yet and Laura was glad she wasn’t the only one who felt strangely lost now that they were no longer kissing. She could see the same burn in Michael’s pretty eyes, still so close to her own, and she hummed as she stroked the pad of her thumb lightly over his bottom lip, relishing in the fact that she was actually allowed to do this now.

Michael had a pretty mouth, she decided, even if he _did_ occasionally use it to make unnecessary comments which would probably have been better left unspoken. He couldn’t help it though. All his life he’d bottled everything up until it exploded out of him and, if Laura could ease that pressure even a tiny bit, she owed it to Michael to try. He was the only one who made her feel quite this relaxed and safe, even when the rest of the world was on fire around her.

Laura wanted to make his sparks glow pink again; wanted to fill him with happiness and not bitterness; wanted him to feel treasured the way he deserved to be.

“More than adequate, sparky,” she murmured, eyes twinkling. “Y’know, if you wanted to kiss me again, I totally wouldn’t hate that.”

Michael’s smile spread across his features like treacle, sweet and slow, and impossible to resist. He pressed a shy kiss to her lips, his emerald gaze glittering in the starlight as he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep from grinning.

“I’m so glad I flounced out of the apartment in a strop,” he muttered, smiling sheepishly. “I never would’ve been brave enough to do this otherwise.”

“I think you’re plenty brave,” Laura disagreed warmly as she reached to smooth his hair back from his forehead. He allowed it, his cheeks heating a little when she stroked his scalp lightly with her fingertips. “Why didn’t you wanna be inside tonight, sparky? Did something happen?”

Michael shrugged half-heartedly, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip although his nerves seemed to have deserted him now.

“Cal’s been in a weird mood since Joy and David left this morning,” the younger boy said hesitantly. “He disappeared after dinner so he's probably with Ashton somewhere… and Mali’s being grouchy because her ex-girlfriend Ashley has been assigned as some sort of bodyguard for the Hood siblings which… y’know… _is_ kind of awkward.”

“She’s not your bodyguard too?” Laura asked curiously, a faint frown on her face. Michael smiled humourlessly as his emerald gaze dropped down to the flowers swaying gently beneath them.

“I’m not royalty, Laura,” he said without making eye contact, his tone bitter. “I don’t think I matter enough to warrant that.”

“Well, you should do,” the older girl said softly, trying to hide how upset she felt at the unhappiness saturating his expression. “You matter a _lot_ , Mikey. You always have done.”

“It’s not important anyway,” he said quietly, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. His pale cheeks were flushed with blood when he forced himself to meet her gaze, his blond hair soft as it fell back down over his forehead. “I just didn’t want to stay inside with all the drama tonight. I’m too tired to try and keep everyone else happy.” He hesitated, biting his lip guiltily like he was worried he sounded cruel. “Do… do _you_ ever feel like that?”

“All the time,” Laura reassured him softly. “Sometimes you just need to look after yourself instead.”

Michael didn’t respond but his head returned to settle gently in the curve of her neck and the older girl let out the breath she’d been holding, her hand trembling a little as she reached to tangle their fingers together securely. She pressed a soft kiss to his hair and Michael snuggled closer as the night sky darkened overhead, unwilling to leave any space between them at all.

“You were having a bad night before I came over, weren't you?” he asked suddenly, his words seemingly coming from nowhere at all. Laura glanced down at him in surprise, one eyebrow rising curiously.

“How’d you work that one out, sparky?” she murmured, unwilling to confirm his suspicions. He had enough to be getting on with without worrying about her as well… although maybe he’d do that anyway. Maybe she should give him the choice instead of keeping her emotions a secret, the way she’d done with Luke.

“Your gloves gave you away,” Michael said softly, his fingertip gently brushing the knitted material covering her scarred hands. “You only wear them when you’re feeling shitty about yourself.”

Laura blinked at him wordlessly, unsure of how to respond. He’d hit the nail on the head there and had proved himself to be a lot more perceptive than she’d given him credit for, and she eyed him silently, taking in the worry lingering in his pretty eyes and the indentations his teeth had left in his bottom lip.

“I don’t feel like that now,” she said honestly, leaning over for one last lingering kiss. “That’s thanks to you, sparky.”

She tugged the gloves off determinedly, stowing them in her pocket and gasping softly when Michael caught her hands gently between his own, raising them to brush his lips lightly over her knuckles.

“You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever met,” he murmured, his eyes damp with tears. “My mum would’ve loved you.”

“Well,” Laura said faintly, her heart rising into her throat. “If your mum was anything like you, I probably would’ve loved her too.”

Michael gave her a watery smile, squeezing her hand gently as a tear slid down his cheek. Laura was kind enough not to mention it.

“Are you cold?” he asked sympathetically, the question taking her by surprise. “You look cold.”

He’d already shrugged out of his jacket before the older girl could do much more than shrug and she smiled fondly when he draped the warm denim around her shoulders, his thumb stroking briefly over the nape of her neck.

“We should get you inside,” Michael said softly, wrongly assuming that Laura’s shiver was a product of the plummeting temperature and _not_ him touching her skin. “You wanna come back to our apartment?” he suggested shyly, his cheeks heating as he scuffed the toe of his trainer in the grass. “We could watch a film if you like.” He bit his lip suddenly, his eyes meeting hers before they flickered away nervously again. “Cal won’t be around but Mali’s there and… well, I think she could do with the company tonight.”

Laura softened from within the confines of his denim jacket, her lips curving up into a soft smile at the affection lingering on his pale face.

“They’re really like your family, aren’t they?” she realised, her hand painted silver beneath the moonlight as she reached to stroke his cheek gently. Michael shrugged bashfully.

“They’re all I’ve got left,” he said honestly, his words bleak but his tone undoubtedly loving. His smile grew when Laura tangled their fingers together firmly, his emerald eyes glitter-soft in the darkness.

“I’ll come over to watch a film on one condition,” the older girl said lightly as she rose from the bench, holding the denim closer when it threatened to slip. “Do you have good snacks at the apartment?”

Michael relaxed visibly, a soft laugh escaping him although he was quick to rearrange his expression into something more serious.

“I have the best snacks,” he said solemnly, even as his eyes sparkled with mischief and fondness. “Will you do me the honour of accompanying me?” he asked teasingly and Laura couldn’t have resisted even if she’d wanted to; not when he was watching her so hopefully.

“C’mon then, sparky,” she agreed, her smile lighting her face. “Lead the way.”

*

They’d been doing this for a week now and Calum was sure he’d never tire of it. He loved the sounds Ashton made when he arched up under the Prince; loved the older boy’s hands slipping clumsily over his ribs as their hips rocked together, gasping into each other’s mouths in the moments before they fell apart.

It was already dark outside, the stars glittering across the velvet black as Ashton slumped down against the younger boy’s chest, still shivering weakly at the pleasure burning through him. Calum closed his eyes contentedly, one arm slung lazily over the Crown Prince’s scarred back as Ashton pressed a chaste kiss to his shoulder, his hazel eyes sparkling through the darkness.

“That was fun, curly,” he said, giggling breathlessly when Calum patted his bum. “We should do that again sometime.”

“Should’ve known you’d like that,” Calum grinned, covering his eyes with his wrist for a moment as he inhaled heavily. “You’ll have to give me a minute though, angel. You’re insatiable! You’ve tired me out.”

“You have nice hands,” Ashton said, shrugging innocently as his kiss-bitten lips twitched into a smile. “I can’t help that, Cal.”

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from if you’re good,” Calum murmured slyly, his dark eyes glinting through the shadows when Ashton snuggled up beside him, tucking his head neatly beneath the younger boy’s chin.

“I’m always good,” Ashton said dismissively. “How could you ever think otherwise?”

Calum rubbed his hand gently down the warm skin of the older boy’s back, dropping sleepy kisses to the red curls as the Crown Prince let out a soft yawn. The only light in the room came from a tank set against the far wall, the clear water casting faint ripples on the ceiling as the shimmering fish inside explored their brightly-coloured coral reef.

Ashton watched the tank for a moment, his pretty eyes reflecting the flickering colours as Calum gazed down at him in wonder, his heart too big for his chest. Ashton hummed with satisfaction when the younger boy’s palm smoothed down his spine, his thumb stroking each vertebrae as the Crown Prince stretched out against him, utterly content.

It was quiet in Ashton’s bedroom, at least until his comm chimed on the bedside table and Calum passed it to him wordlessly, not wanting the older boy to stretch and hurt the healing muscles in his back. Ashton’s face creased when he read the news headline scrolling across the screen and he shivered as the colour drained from his face.

“Angel?” Calum asked tentatively, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he watched the anxiety blooming on the older boy’s face. “Angel, what is it?”

“The Purgatio…” Ashton’s words sounded slightly strangled, his hazel eyes panicked as his comm dropped onto the rumpled sheets through limp fingers. “There… there was an attack.”

“I’m sorry, Ash, I thought you’d heard,” Calum said sorrowfully, his gaze soft as he reached for the older boy’s hand. His heart ached at the agonised tears sliding down Ashton’s cheeks and he wished so badly that he could make things right again but… he didn’t know how. “They attacked the transport hub this morning, right?” the Prince asked softly, just for something to fill the silence. “It was horrible.”

“There’s been another attack,” Ashton said faintly as his shaking hand tangled in his curls, leaving them in disarray. “It’s really close to here, Cal. They hit the Lumen Centre.”

He lurched off the bed suddenly, a ragged gasp tearing out of him like he couldn’t stand to be trapped in his bedroom anymore. The balcony doors swung open silently under his shaking hand and Calum felt small where he was still kneeling on the bed, one trembling fist knotted in the blankets as the anxiety tightened around his lungs.

The water in the fish tank was churning violently behind him and Calum forced himself to take a deep breath as he scrambled to his feet, rubbing his temples for a moment as he focused on uncoiling the magic boiling in his veins. The bubbling water calmed to gentle waves and Calum let out a weak sigh of relief, padding out onto the balcony behind Ashton where the older boy was peering towards the horizon, his face grey with dread.

“I can see it from here, Cal,” Ashton said bleakly, shaking badly as he pointed towards the faint flicker of flames burning on the horizon. There were various aircraft arriving at the scene now, their searchlights cutting through the darkness as they searched for survivors and any members of the Purgatio who might have remained on the scene.

The Prince wrapped his arms gently around the older boy’s waist, their warm skin pressing together against the chill of the evening as they both stared at the destruction. Calum ached as he thought about how many people must have been caught up in the attack; as he remembered the smiling staff in their horrible waistcoats and how happy he’d felt that night when he’d been lucky enough to meet Ashton.

“It’s quite late,” Calum whispered hopelessly, his heart breaking in his chest. “Maybe no one was at the Lumen Centre when it was hit?”

“There was a premiere tonight,” Ashton breathed as his eyes slid shut against the boiling tears. “I was invited but I… I didn’t want to go.” He shuddered as a sob tore out of him, his words weak with anguish. “The Purgatio planned this well.”

A sizzling sound broke the devastated silence that had fallen and Calum flinched as he held the older boy closer to his chest, his dark eyes widening as he searched for wherever the noise was coming from. Ashton’s shoulders slumped as he turned in the younger boy’s arms, exhausted now as he pressed a weary kiss to the Prince’s shoulder.

“It’s just the forcefields, Cal,” he said heavily, his eyelashes spiky with tears. “The guards will be strengthening them with charms... until the danger has passed.”

Calum looked up curiously at the older boy’s words, watching as the air itself seemed to ripple overhead, the spells powerful enough that the sky was left shining faintly purple as the sizzling sound slowly faded away to nothing. The hairs on the back of Calum’s neck rose with the strength of the energy crackling in the air overhead and Ashton seemed small in his arms, a soft sigh escaping him as his arms wrapped securely around the younger boy’s waist.

“We need to go inside,” Calum said softly, his face crumpling a little when the scent of smoke reached them faintly on the breeze. “It’s too cold out here, angel. You’re shivering.”

“Who cares if I’m shivering?” Ashton muttered, hiding his tears in the warm skin of the younger boy’s chest. “People have _died_ , Cal.”

“And you won’t be one of them,” Calum replied, surprising himself with his fierceness. “Not if I have anything to do with it. Now come inside before you freeze to death.”

Calum kept his arms wrapped securely around the older boy’s waist as he led him back into his bedroom, nudging the balcony doors shut with his foot before he slumped down onto the bed, drawing Ashton stiffly down with him. Calum eased the blankets over them with difficulty and, after a moment, the Crown Prince finally let himself relax.

His damp cheeks glimmered in the light from the fish tank and Calum thumbed the tears away gently, feeling a lump rise in his throat at the sadness on the older boy’s face. He couldn’t imagine how awful it must feel to survive a war, only to be greeted with the same carnage back home too. He wanted Ashton to stop hurting but he wasn’t sure that was achievable tonight.

Maybe all he could do was hold the Crown Prince close enough that he wasn’t alone when he fell to pieces.

Maybe their shared anguish was all Calum could hope for.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d flown to Claritas for the Elevare but it hadn’t been this: lying heartbroken on the Crown Prince’s bed with a sobbing Ashton Irwin in his arms, full of fear and self-loathing… but there was love too, smouldering just below the surface, and Calum was determined to keep it burning.

No matter how dark things got, he was going to be the light that brought Ashton back home again.

Calum was going to keep him safe.

*

The news of the Purgatio’s latest attack had left Niall on edge.

His apartment was silent, save for the comms screen mounted on the wall in his tiny kitchen currently playing a news bulletin. The grim-faced reporter was detailing the destruction of the Lumen Centre and Niall looked down at the meal he’d been preparing distastefully before he tipped the food shakily into the recycling bin. Somewhere between hearing the death toll and learning that the terrorists had escaped detection, he’d lost his appetite.

The palatial estate gardens looked dark through his window and Niall gazed out at them for a moment, fighting not to comprehend what the flickering amber light on the horizon meant as his arms came to wrap around himself protectively. He knew there were hospitals and medical centres much closer to the Lumen Centre than here but he still wondered vaguely if he’d be called in to help. He bit his lip as he glanced unwillingly towards the comms screen where the first footage from the scene was being broadcast across Cerasus.

The building was a mess of mangled metal and shattered glass, and Niall felt faintly sick as he switched the screen off, his pained blue eyes sliding shut for a moment. The carnage reminded him of the Boneflats; of that soul-deep ache he’d felt at watching people get hurt and being unable to save them, no matter how much it tore him up inside.

Niall couldn’t stand to watch other people suffering, especially when it was within his powers to heal them.

A soft knock on the door startled him and he approached it warily, surprised that he had an unexpected visitor so late at night. He wasn’t especially worried – enough guards filled the corridors that his safety was all but assured – but he was still frowning weakly as he reached for the handle.

He could sense the person on the other side; could feel an echo of their loneliness and the deep ache they felt that indicated they’d been unhappy for a long time. There was an underlying warmth though; a gentle burn of love and the fear of craving something frightening, and as soon as Niall identified this, he already knew who was waiting for him on the other side.

“Hey, Lukey,” he murmured as he pulled the door open, softening at the sight of the younger boy’s damp hair and tired eyes. “How’re you doing, darling?” The pet name rolled off his tongue unthinkingly but he felt Luke’s surprised happiness before the pretty blush heated the younger boy’s cheeks so Niall didn't worry too much.

“I… I don’t know,” Luke said honestly, shrugging half-heartedly before he folded his arms protectively across his chest. “I just heard the news and…” He fell suddenly silent, biting his bottom lip hard as his cheeks flamed hotter. “I just came here without thinking.”

“You’re in your pyjamas. You’re not even wearing _shoes_ ,” Niall said lightly, aiming for a teasing tone which fell woefully flat as he opened the door wider, beckoning for Luke to come into the warm.

“I was scared,” the younger boy admitted quietly, embarrassed but earnest. “You always make me feel safe, Ni.”

Niall’s heart felt too big for his chest as he turned away to lock the door securely, aware that Luke’s gaze was fixed on his back. He could feel the younger boy watching him as he processed Luke’s tangled emotions; the nervous butterflies and the hopefulness, and the hastily suppressed urge to reach out for the older man… to hold him closer… to _kiss_ him -

Niall blinked in surprise, carefully schooling his expression into something milder as he turned to give Luke a tired smile. His unexpected house guest still looked shaken up by the evening’s events and Niall figured that was why his emotions were running so high right now. Luke just needed someone to take care of him.

“Why don’t you go and make yourself comfy?” Niall suggested quietly, his blue eyes soft as he took in the way the younger boy was shivering. “I’ll find you something warmer to wear and make you a hot drink, yeah? Would that help?”

“It would,” Luke murmured, his shy smile hidden as he bit his thumbnail nervously. “Thank you, Ni.”

“Anything for you, Lukey,” Niall said unthinkingly, the words true even if they maybe shouldn’t have been. “I won’t be long.”

He left the younger boy sitting cross-legged on the sofa, his fingers tangling uneasily in his lap as he glanced out at the faint purplish tinge of the forcefield stretching overheard. It didn’t take Niall more than a few minutes to fetch a spare hoodie and brew the younger boy a mug of tea but he still felt bad for leaving Luke alone, especially when he could sense how anxious he still was.

“There you go,” Niall said, bundling the hoodie up into a loose ball before he tossed it at the younger boy. It mussed Luke’s hair up and he squawked indignantly before a crooked smile tugged at his lips, burning the sadness away for a moment as he struggled into the warm garment. “Let me just grab your drink. Then you’ll warm up in no time.”

Luke went pink when Niall sat down on the sofa beside him, their blue eyes meeting for a moment before the younger boy dropped his gaze timidly, tucking his face away into the confines of the hoodie. He inhaled deeply and Niall felt the moment when Luke identified the scent as ‘ _home_ ’ with a jarring feeling in his chest that threatened to take his breath away.

“Drink your tea, Lukey,” the older man said weakly as his heart fluttered at how ridiculously _easy_ it was to work out what the younger boy was thinking. Niall hadn’t been lying to Calum that day in the gym when he’d insisted that he couldn’t read thoughts. Usually his abilities only allowed him a brief taste of what someone was feeling but Luke’s emotions were reaching him with astonishing clarity, and Niall wondered why that was.

The younger boy was watching him owlishly over the rim of his mug, his cold feet tucked beneath Niall’s thigh as the older man patted his ankle comfortingly. Luke was burrowed warmly inside the hoodie now, looking smaller than the healer would have believed possible as he let his head come to rest lightly on Niall’s shoulder.

It was quiet in the living room, the lamplight golden as the quiet sound of footsteps could be heard briefly from one of the corridors upstairs. The blanket from the back of the sofa was soft when Niall draped it carefully over their legs and Luke hummed in contentment as he snuggled closer into the older man’s side, his lips brushing chastely over the healer’s shoulder for a moment, fleeting enough that it could have been passed off as an accident if Niall hadn’t felt the thrill sending the younger boy’s heart racing in his chest.

“Lukey,” he said faintly, his eyes widening although he kept his gaze fixed on the night sky through his window. “Lukey, what are you thinking?”

“Can’t you guess that for yourself?” Luke asked softly, his tone taking on a mischievous note as he cocked his head curiously. “I thought this was your area of specialty.” The younger boy seemed so much more comfortable now and, for just a moment, the healer remembered that evening when he’d found Luke hidden inside the tree; remembered the younger boy’s tear-streaked face and the way his voice had shaken when he’d called Niall ‘ _sweet_ ’.

“My abilities don’t work the same around you,” the older man said hesitantly, his brow creasing a little when Luke held his gaze, his caramel-coloured curls falling messily across his forehead as he warmed his hands on the mug.

“What do you mean, Ni?” he asked quietly, his tone perplexed. “You can’t tell what I’m feeling or…?”

“No, Lukey,” Niall said, his gaze dropping to the faded blanket as his teeth sank nervously into his bottom lip. “I… I can feel _so_ much more than I ever have before.” He fell silent though, not wanting to say anything else in case Luke realised how the healer felt and wrongly assumed that he owed Niall anything.

“Does that mean… wait, can you tell what I’m _thinking_?” the younger boy asked curiously, not looking frightened but captivated instead.

“Flashes of it,” Niall admitted uncomfortably, his cheeks heating a little when he met the younger boy’s awed gaze as Luke shakily set his mug down on the coffee table.

“Tell me, Ni,” he murmured as his trembling hands reached to cover the older man’s. “Tell me what you can sense.”

Niall watched him helplessly for a moment before he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he focused on the trust in the younger boy’s beautiful eyes.

“You feel tired,” he began quietly, his tone soft. “You couldn’t sleep last night because… because you were upset...” Luke paled a little when the older man’s voice trailed away but he was still holding Niall’s hands tightly and the healer felt a lump rise in his throat as he delved deeper, his heart aching at what he discovered. “You… you stayed up late because you…” Niall broke off, a tear sliding down his cheek as he identified the sharp stinging pain emanating from the younger boy’s wrists and the bitter twist to his expression.

“Oh, darling, no,” Niall breathed when Luke crumpled, burying his face in his shaking hands. The shame searing through the younger boy was painful and Niall cringed at the strength of it as he drew Luke gently into his arms, not knowing how else to comfort him.

A wind whistled through the room, growing with the younger boy’s anguish as it stirred the blanket and rustled the pages of a magazine left lying on the coffee table. The breeze tousled Luke’s curls messily and Niall smoothed them down as best he could, murmuring soft nothings under his breath as his palms came to settle lightly on the younger boy’s arms through the hoodie he’d borrowed.

It was easy for Niall to locate the cuts now that he knew they were there and, although the knowledge that they were self-inflicted was terrible, the wounds were easy to heal. It was a simple matter to push the warmth of his magic out through his palms and Luke gasped quietly as he felt the stinging pain fade to nothing at all.

He rolled the sleeves of the hoodie back with shaking hands, his golden eyelashes spiky with tears as he stared down at the pale skin of his wrists in shock. Only the barest hint of silvery scars could be seen now and Niall wanted to feel happy that the younger boy looked so wonderstruck but he ached too badly at the knowledge of what Luke had done to himself.

Niall covered the younger boy's bare wrist gently with his palm, not missing the way Luke shivered as he leant forwards to rest his forehead on the healer’s shoulder.

“Do you really hate yourself this much, Lukey?” Niall asked weakly, his cheeks still sticky with tears as he stared down miserably at the faint scars crisscrossing the younger boy's arms. He was so caught up that it startled him when Luke gently touched his jaw, his fingertips brushing the warm skin fleetingly before his courage failed him.

“I don't remember to hate myself at all when I'm with you,” Luke breathed, his words almost too soft to hear. “Sometimes you make me want to love myself instead.” He smiled suddenly, watery and small. “Told you that you made me feel safe, Ni.”

He was still resting in the older man's lap, his head tucked neatly into the curve of the healer's neck as he sighed at the relaxing feeling of Niall gently stroking his back.

“Do you get lonely living here by yourself, Ni?” Luke asked quietly, the question taking him by surprise as much as Niall. The older man shrugged uneasily, his mouth turning down at the corners.

“Sometimes,” he said carefully, his brow creasing. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I get lonely too,” Luke said, like that much wasn't painfully obvious from the scars lining his arms. He seemed to be holding his breath for a moment before he released it in a gust, his tired eyes sparkling faintly. “Maybe we should be lonely together.”

“Oh yeah?” Niall murmured, smiling weakly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Sleepover?” Luke seemed to be trying to play the suggestion off as a joke but Niall hadn't been exaggerating at how attuned he was to the younger boy's emotions and he could have detected the gleam of hope from a mile away.

“You mean… you want to stay here tonight?” he asked hesitantly, leaving his dark hair rumpled when he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “You're sure? I'm… I’m kind of boring, Lukey.”

“You're not. Don't say that,” Luke chided gently, the sheer fondness he could feel taking the older man's breath away for a moment. He looked so adamant that Niall's lips twitched into an unconscious smile at the younger boy's determination.

“We'll, if you're sure, Lukey,” he said slowly. “Make sure you tell your parents though, yeah?”

Luke flushed, looking nothing short of offended.

“I'm not a _child_ , Ni,” he said pointedly, his expression wounded.

“No, you’re not,” Niall agreed without missing a beat. “But there’s just been another attack, remember? You don’t want them worrying about you unnecessarily.”

“Okay,” Luke said softly, looking mollified. “I guess you’re right.” He reached into his pocket for his comm, tapping out a quick message as his pretty eyes flickered across the screen. Niall couldn’t tear his gaze away, too caught up in the rosy undertone of the younger boy’s skin and the way he smiled shyly when he noticed the older man watching him.

“I noticed something else you were thinking too, Lukey,” Niall said suddenly, before he could overthink it. He was no longer afraid of sharing his growing feelings because all this evening had done was highlight just how _badly_ Luke needed to feel loved… and Niall could give him that. He certainly _wanted_ to anyhow. “You… you _want_ me, don't you? I felt it.”

The silence was broken by the younger boy's shocked gasp as he stared at the healer with wide eyes. His face paled as he tensed, clearly bracing himself for rejection, and Niall reached to cradle his cheek wordlessly, smothering his own trepidation because Luke was _so_ much more important. He needed the older man to be brave.

“I want that too, darling,” Niall said softly, smiling sadly at the stunned disbelief growing on the younger boy's face. “This doesn't have to change things though. I want you to be happy and comfortable over everything else so please don't think I'd ever expect anything from you, okay? I just want to take care of you.”

“Well, what if I want to kiss you?” Luke blurted out before his cheeks flamed scarlet. Niall smiled, his heart skipping a beat in his chest at the want burning in the younger boy’s eyes.

“Has to be your choice, Lukey,” he said calmly, giving an easy-going shrug.

“And what if I want you to make _other_ choices?” Luke asked in a softer voice, his implication clear by the blush spreading down his throat as he swallowed reflexively. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for the older man but had lost his nerve and Niall laced their fingers together firmly, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Slowly, darling,” he cautioned gently, still smiling. “We have all the time in the world.”

“I want you now,” Luke mumbled, his emotions a confusing whirl of guilt and desire. The older man leant closer, pressing a soft kiss to the younger boy’s forehead when he felt the fear freezing him too. Niall lingered, his fingers still combing gently through Luke's soft curls as he used his empathic abilities in a way he usually avoided: to project _his_ feelings instead of trying to read someone else’s so that the younger boy would know he wasn’t alone.

Luke gasped when he felt it, fluttering like a butterfly on the fringes of his consciousness; all of Niall’s warmth and fondness wrapping tenderly around him, impossible to mistake for anything but what might one day become love.

The surprised sound that escaped the younger boy was unbearably sweet but Niall’s smile hadn’t even touched his lips when Luke closed the distance between them, his pretty eyes falling shut as he drew the healer into a clumsy but enthusiastic kiss. Niall melted into it for a moment, his hands rising to tangle lightly in the younger boy’s curls as Luke’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, still pillowed comfortably on the older man’s thighs.

“Relax, Lukey,” Niall murmured when the younger boy drew back to breathe, two spots of colour high in his cheeks as his heart raced. His lust and surprise were painfully apparent, and Niall stroked his back soothingly, pressing his lips fondly to the caramel-coloured curls. “Let’s not rush into anything, darling, okay? We can take as long as you need.”

“I need _you_ ,” Luke said honestly as his eyes sparkled in the lamplight. “For as long as you want me.”

“Always then,” Niall said, smiling faintly when the younger boy’s fingers threaded gently through his dark hair. “I’ll always want you.” He brightened for a moment, an impish glint entering his eyes. “After all, I can't very well be lonely _alone_ , can I?” he asked teasingly.

Luke rolled his eyes before his grin softened; became sweeter and more sincere as he coaxed the older man into a lingering kiss, tender and sure, like a promise.

*

Mali had grown so used to being someone Ashley loved that it felt strange to feel so uneasy around her now. Her heart still raced whenever their eyes met but it was accompanied with nerves this time around and it was distinctly unpleasant.

She hid her unhappiness behind her mug, taking a sip of coffee as she drew her feet up under her on the sofa, keeping her gaze carefully averted from her ex-girlfriend. It was easier to ignore her now that Michael had brought Laura back to the apartment and Mali was grateful for that as she watched the pair of them sitting snuggled up together nearby. A film was playing on the comm but they were both largely ignoring it, more focused on their entwined fingers and murmured conversation as they passed a bag of sweets between them.

Mali hadn’t been sure what to make of the eldest Hemmings sibling at first but Laura was definitely growing on her, especially now that she could see how content she made Michael. Happiness was an all-too-rare emotion for the younger boy and it meant a lot to see him so comfortable now, even in the wake of another of the Purgatio’s attacks.

“You weren’t kidding about having good snacks,” Laura smiled, laughing softly when Michael popped another sweet into his mouth before letting his head fall to rest on the fair-haired girl’s shoulder.

“I wish they made these in Tenebris,” he said wistfully. “I’ll have to take a shipment back with me when we leave here. I’m not sure I can live without them now.” His expression soured at the mention of returning home and Mali filed that away for reflection later, taking a thoughtful sip of her drink as her eyes flickered to the film playing on the comm.

It was a romance she’d watched with Ashley when they’d first started dating, long before the Boneflats War had torn everything apart, and the Princess winced as she remembered that evening they’d spent together; the lingering touches and the way Ashley’s dark eyes had fluttered shut when Mali had finally garnered enough courage to kiss her for the first time.

She glanced towards the younger girl unconsciously, her heart aching when she found Ashley gazing back at her, her expression inscrutable as she sat stiffly in the armchair opposite. Her pale skin shone faintly lilac in the light of the forcefield through the window, her hair no longer a stunning aqua but dark now, just like the rest of her.

Ashley was like a slate that had been wiped clean and Mali was powerless to bring her back, no matter how much it hurt.

The younger girl was still dressed in her uniform, her mouth turned down unhappily at the corners as she watched the pain rippling across the Princess’ face. It made a lump rise in Mali’s throat and she fought it down, her dark eyes prickling as she dragged her gaze frantically back to Michael and Laura.

“What are you two talking about?” she asked, her tone just a little bit desperate. Ashley stiffened out of the corner of her eye and Mali pressed her lips together hard, trying to focus on the shifting metal of her bracelets and _not_ how badly she wanted to cry right now.

“Laura was just telling me she’s never seen this film before,” Michael said with a shrug, his lips curving up faintly at the fair-haired girl although his brow creased when he noticed how miserable Mali looked. “I was surprised because I thought _everyone_ had seen ‘Love Comes Knocking’ but apparently not.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, sparky,” Laura joked softly, looking a little awkward although her expression remained fond. “I was on the Boneflats at the time. We didn’t exactly have time for film nights.”

“Oh.” Michael bit his lip, paling visibly as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, petal. We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t feel like it.”

“I don’t mind,” Laura said quietly, giving a half-hearted shrug although she was blushing visibly as she tilted her head at the younger boy. “Did you just call me _petal_?” Her voice was soft and incredibly fond, and Michael flushed crimson as he shot her a panicked glance.

“Um,” he said intelligently, his bleached blond hair sticking up messily where he’d raked his fingers through it. “I mean I… I just… uh… sorry?”

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it, sparky,” Laura pointed out quietly, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. “I really don’t mind talking about the war with you though. You make me feel okay about it somehow… so you shouldn’t worry.”

Michael was still staring at her silently, apparently coming up blank at how to respond to the kindness she’d just shown him after what he was viewing as a mistake, and the Princess liked watching the wonder in his eyes as Laura gave his hand a comforting squeeze. The pair looked like they needed to be alone.

“I’ll wash these cups up,” Mali said awkwardly, gathering their empty mugs from the table and carrying them swiftly towards the kitchen counters edging the opposite wall. She tensed a little when Ashley sidled after her, clearly not wanting to be left alone with Michael and Laura as they quietly began to speak once more.

“You need any help?” Ashley asked softly, her short hair barely brushing the line of her jaw as she watched Mali leaning heavily against the counter.

“You’re our _bodyguard_ now, Ash,” Mali said sharply, hating the way the nickname rolled so easily off her tongue. “You’re not a servant.” The younger girl was still watching her, her lips pursed as a frown creased her brow. The Princess sighed softly. “It’s only two cups. I’m perfectly capable.”

“I brought yours out too actually,” Ashley said helpfully. Mali rolled her eyes, unsure whether to smile or cry.

“Three, then,” she amended heavily as she dropped the cups into the sink, opting to wash them by hand rather than use the dishwasher since that might at least keep her distracted for a few minutes. Mali hung her head as she waited for the water to fill the bowl, her dark hair tumbling down to hide her face as Ashley leant against the counter beside her, the tension between them undeniable.

Mali could just make out Michael and Laura’s voices over the noise of the tap, still holding each other’s hands as the fair-haired girl quietly explained how she’d ended up on the Boneflats. It seemed a mixture of her desire to do the right thing and her determination to support Ashton through anything, regardless of the danger.

“Luke wanted to fight too,” Laura continued, her tone growing sad now as Michael pressed a chaste kiss to her hair. “He was too young and… and he won’t talk about it but I know he hates himself for not going. He feels like he’s let everyone down.”

“I’m sorry, petal,” Michael breathed, only audible because the sound of the water falling had finally ceased. “But… he’s a bit happier now, isn’t he? Niall seems to be doing a good job of cheering him up.”

“Yeah, he is.” Laura frowned for a moment before she shrugged, her features smoothing as she smiled at him. “Did you know Niall was the one who fixed Ash up so that he could walk again? He’d been serving in the medical branch just like me; he got transferred back early when they brought Ash home. Niall’s the best there is.”

“Then I’m glad he could be there,” Michael said but there was something in his tone that sounded faintly pained now. “I… I know how Luke feels, I think. It never sat right with me that I couldn’t do my bit for the war effort.” Laura must have shot him a quizzical look because Michael sighed, his words coming out muffled for a moment like he was biting his lip. “David and Joy… well, they never would’ve risked their kids’ lives - not even mine - for victory. All of us wanted to go but… well, they said no.” His voice dropped then, almost too soft for Mali to hear. “I guess they’re selfish but… it feels wrong to think that of them, especially after everything they’ve done for me.”

Michael wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t thought herself before but it stung to hear those words said out loud. The metal of her bracelets slipped down to her fingertips, twisting into spiked claws that did very little to make her feel better. Ashley was staring at her now, her dark eyes widening with shock and… _pleading_?

Mali didn’t understand why and her confusion must have shown on her face because the younger girl softened, her palm settling on the Princess’ arm for a moment, uncaring of the bubbles clinging to her tanned skin.

“You never told me the reason you didn’t join up,” Ashley said weakly, her eyes gleaming wetly when Mali pulled away from her, still too proud and stubborn to admit the truth even now.

“You never asked me,” she said instead, because being prickly and defensive was easier than being vulnerable.

“Mali -”

“ _What_?!” the older girl demanded, hissing the words because she didn’t particularly want to air her dirty laundry in front of Michael and Laura. “You thought I was too lazy? That I didn’t care enough? I fucking _love_ Tenebris, Ashley! If you think I didn’t _beg_ my parents to let me go with you then you didn’t know me after all, did you?”

“Mali, _please_ , I’m sorry -”

“It’s too late!” Mali snapped, cringing when she realised how loud her voice had risen. Three pairs of eyes were locked on her tear-streaked face now and she grimaced as she dried her hands mechanically on her jeans before grabbing her comm from the counter. “I’m going out for a walk. Don’t follow me.”

“I’m supposed to take care of you,” Ashley whispered, her voice thick with tears.

“Well, Calum’s already disappeared somewhere,” Mali said nastily. “You’re not doing a very good job, are you?”

Ashley flinched, even though she must’ve been able to tell that the older girl was only being harsh because she was upset.

“Tear my head off if you want, Mali,” she said softly. “I’m still coming with you.”

Mali strode out into the corridor outside without looking at her, her long hair fanning out behind her as she stalked away. Ashley kept step with her easily, passing the older girl her jacket wordlessly when the Princess shivered. Mali slipped her arms through the sleeves with a grunt of thanks, embarrassed and upset, and hating how strained things felt now.

Once upon a time, she’d imagined that she’d be with Ashley forever; that they’d spend the rest of their lives together, so in love that nothing else mattered. Ashley had always deserved to be loved like that but circumstances had torn them apart and… and here they were years later, shoved together like two mismatched puzzle pieces that would never fit together again, no matter how hard they tried to force it.

“I wish I hated you,” Mali said unthinkingly, her feet faltering beneath her when they reached the entrance hall. It was cold and dark outside, the purplish hue of the sky ominous when the reason for it was taken into account. “I wish I hated you so fucking much, Ash.”

“But you don’t?” Ashley murmured, her tone almost hopeful. A breathless sound escaped Mali; half sob, half laughter.

“I could never,” she said helplessly. “Doesn’t matter how hard I try.”

She’d loved Ashley since she was fifteen years old; since the younger girl had had braces and terrible hair, and the worst fashion sense Mali had ever seen. She’d loved Ashley with her awful taste in films and her weird food choices, and the mischievous streak in her that always used to get Mali into trouble when she was younger, back before she’d learnt to be smart enough to hide her misdemeanours.

“You’re crying?” Ashley asked weakly, her face crumpling. “Fuck. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“You bitch,” Mali whispered as the tears boiled over, her metal claws twisting into bracelets once more as she reached for the younger girl unconsciously. “I never cry.”

A sob escaped her, shattering the silence, and Ashley drew her into a tight hug. She still smelt the same - like toothpaste and perfume; like Mali’s one last safe haven - and they clung to each other like their lives depended on it as the Princess tucked her face away into Ashley’s neck.

“I missed you too, Mali,” the younger girl said wryly, tearful and kind, and suddenly unchanged by the years that had passed. She stroked the older girl’s hair gently, one arm winding warmly around Mali’s waist as she rocked her for a moment, just relishing in their closeness. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“When you were fighting,” Mali began, her voice little more than a breath as her hands trembled where they were fisting in the back of the younger girl’s jacket. “You were all I ever thought about. I missed you, Ash... every single day you were gone, I missed you.”

Mali’s loneliness faded a little when Ashley held her closer, tight enough that the sharp ache in the Princess’ chest no longer took her breath away with the pain of it. The older girl sighed softly in relief, relaxing as the last of the fight bled out of her in the circle of Ashley’s arms.

Mali still felt sad and angry, but at least she wasn’t alone now.

Maybe she never had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter :)
> 
> Also, I have exciting news! My second book "White Light" is out now! Do you want to read a sad gay ghost story? Because you totally should. 🖤  
> Paperback: https://goo.gl/FiDN8G  
> Kindle: https://goo.gl/aW2RTk


	8. Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Sorry for the slight delay - this chapter was weirdly tricky to write but I really hope you'll all enjoy it!
> 
> Trigger warnings for anxiety, reference to self-harm (non-graphic), and sexual content.

**_I'll take my bow; I won't make a sound._ **

**_I whisper truce as the ashes hit the ground._ **

**_Hush, love._ **

**_No, I'm not what you think that I'm made of._ **

**_I'm a story, I'm a breakup;_ **

**_Just a hero on a bridge that's burning down._ **

_\- Scars, Boy Epic_

 

The moon was full tonight, shining brightly down onto the palatial estate gardens, its light unhindered by the wisps of cloud carried overhead on the breeze. Calum’s silhouette was tense where he stood out on the balcony, his arms folded over the stone balustrade as Ashton watched him sleepily from the bed, the blankets still rumpled around his bare waist as he sighed quietly.

There was something playing on the younger boy's mind; something that Calum wasn't telling him. He’d been growing increasingly short-tempered as the second task approached – only two days away now – and Ashton wondered what aspect of it was causing the younger boy so much worry.

He padded towards Calum hesitantly, wincing a little when the door creaked as he joined the Prince on the balcony. Calum stiffened when he realised he was no longer alone, the muscles rippling in his back as he shivered at the chill. He remained stiff for one stubborn moment before he relaxed unconsciously in the older boy’s arms, a heavy sigh escaping him when Ashton’s chin came to rest securely on his shoulder.

“It’s cold out here, curly,” the Crown Prince murmured as one palm rose to settle warmly on Calum's chest, right over his racing heart. He stifled a yawn as best he could, his crimson curls tickling the underside of Calum's jaw when he cuddled closer. “Why don’t you come back to bed?”

“No point,” Calum muttered, his voice rough from misuse. “Can’t sleep anyway.”

“What’s wrong, Cal?” Ashton asked softly, his tone unhappy. The younger boy shrugged jerkily in response and Ashton sighed as he took an unwilling step back, shivering in the cold. “Is it being with me?” His voice was bleak as he bit his bottom lip hard, almost like he was afraid of the answer. Calum turned to face him slowly, his dark eyes widening with some emotion that the Crown Prince was too tired to identify.

The silence stretched to breaking point and Ashton folded his arms tightly across his bare chest, fighting to keep his face from crumpling at what he saw as rejection.

“Maybe you need a night in your own apartment, Cal,” he said quietly, his hands trembling a little although he hoped the younger boy couldn’t see in the darkness. “I can’t remember the last time you slept there.”

Calum reeled back like he’d been slapped, his eyes gleaming too bright in the shadows as he turned away again, squaring his shoulders. His eyelashes were growing spiky with tears and a lump rose in Ashton’s throat when he realised that _his_ words might have been misconstrued too.

“You don’t want me here,” Calum said flatly, a statement rather than a question. The words were saturated with more hurt than Ashton would have believed possible and he sort of wanted to cry himself when he saw the shudder running through the younger boy's frame, like he was fighting not to cry. “If you needed space, you could have just told me –”

Ashton closed the space between them with a sigh, wrapping his arms once more around the Prince’s chest. He pressed a lingering kiss to Calum’s shoulder, cuddling him for long enough that he was certain his voice would be reasonably steady when he finally spoke again.

“Of course I want you here, curly,” he said softly, his hazel eyes blazing with sincerity when Calum risked glancing tearfully back at him. “I’m just worried about you. I know how much you love Mali and Mike, and you haven’t been spending any time with them these last few weeks. I just… I want you to be okay. You _deserve_ to be okay but you’re hurting instead… and I don’t know how to help you.”

“You don’t need to help me,” Calum mumbled, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he twisted in the older boy's arms to wearily return the hug. He was shivering a little, his head bowed enough that it was easy for Ashton to press a kiss to his fluffy hair. “I should be the one helping _you_. You’re dealing with a lot more crap than I am, angel. What we’re going through doesn’t even compare.”

Ashton pulled a face, making it quite clear just how much he disliked Calum downplaying his own problems, even if it _had_ been drummed into him growing up.

“Well, regardless of whether that’s true or not,” he began pointedly, his hug tightening a little when Calum pressed a barely-there kiss to his cheek. “You’re still allowed to be upset, Cal, and you definitely shouldn’t hide it. You’re not in Tenebris now, remember? You’re safe here.”

Ashton’s palm rose to cradle the younger boy’s cheek, his heart breaking when he saw the tears welling in Calum’s lovely chocolate brown eyes. He was still trying to hide his emotions even now as his hands dropped down to form fists at his sides and Ashton sighed quietly as he realised just how deeply ingrained this behaviour was. It would take years to heal all the damage and it made him angry that this was culturally acceptable in Tenebris; that there was a whole nation of people so terrified at the thought of sharing their emotions.

“You’re allowed to be upset,” Ashton repeated softly, his tone earnest enough that Calum’s shoulders slumped, even as the fear continued to burn in his eyes.

“I’m really not upset,” the younger boy forced out through gritted teeth. “I’m _fine_.”

“Liar,” Ashton said quietly, his expression remaining fond despite the sadness he could feel. “Look at the fish tank.”

Calum stared at him in confusion for a moment before he glanced up, his cheeks flaming at how violently the water was sloshing about inside, in time with the frantic pounding of his heart. The poor fish had taken shelter amongst the coral and the Prince’s fingernails automatically dug into his thighs as he struggled to calm himself.

“Sorry, Ash,” Calum whispered, his expression twisting with pain and what might have been self-hatred. He winced when he broke the skin and Ashton squinted down through the darkness, his heart aching when he saw what the younger boy was doing to himself.

“Hey,” the Crown Prince chided gently, his brow furrowing with concern. “Hey, stop that.”

Calum’s hands were trembling when they fell to hang limply by his sides and Ashton entwined their fingers carefully, a lump rising in his throat as he leant to press a soft kiss to the younger boy’s collarbone. Calum sighed shakily, abruptly exhausted as the fight bled out of him. He looked so fed up and Ashton knew he could make him feel better; knew Calum wouldn’t feel so fragile if he relaxed, unwinding for long enough that he forgot his worries for a little while.

“Sorry,” Calum repeated weakly, his voice little more than a breath. “I’m sorry I keep secrets from you. I don’t _want_ to. It’s just… hiding things is all I know.” He shrugged half-heartedly, sniffing as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I'd tell you how I felt if I could. I promise I would.”

“You already do,” Ashton said honestly, his tone soft as he smoothed the younger boy’s hair back with a gentle hand. When Calum scoffed weakly, the older boy silenced him with a brief kiss. “Don't snort at me, curly. You _do_ tell me how you’re feeling sometimes. I mean it.”

When Calum simply looked confused, Ashton gave him a gentle smile, stretching up on his tiptoes to kiss the soft skin beneath the younger boy’s ear. Calum shivered in response and the older boy hummed with satisfaction, giving the Prince's hands a comforting squeeze where he remained gently cradling them.

“What about when I’m touching you?” Ashton murmured, a faint smirk curving his lips when the younger boy’s breath caught in his throat. Calum was staring at him with something like awe now, his cheeks heating up as he processed the words. “You always tell me when I’m making you feel good, don’t you?” the older boy continued innocently, grinning a little when the flush of colour spread down Calum’s throat as he swallowed audibly. “You tell me how much you love my mouth… my fingers…” Ashton stretched up to suck a bruising kiss to the younger boy’s throat, drawing a whine from him. “You tell me when you want my lips wrapped around you, don’t you? Always tell me how good it makes you feel.”

“ _Angel_ ,” Calum whined, his eyes darkening.

“Let me make you feel good now,” Ashton whispered as he released the younger boy’s hands in favour of drawing him closer instead. He settled his palm warmly on the older boy’s hip while the other slipped down to palm him gently through his boxers, drawing a ragged gasp from Calum as his eyes fluttered shut. “Let me make you feel beautiful again… because you _are_ , Cal. You always have been.”

“Please, angel,” Calum breathed. “Want that so bad.”

“I’ve got you,” Ashton murmured, his words humid against the Prince’s neck as he pressed another lingering kiss there. “I promise.”

His palm slipped round to the small of the younger boy’s back, brushing over the dimples there fondly as he eased his free hand into Calum’s underwear, curling his fingers loosely around his bare cock. Ashton tightened his grip when Calum let out a soft moan, his toes curling on the flagstones as he leant back heavily against the balustrade. His face looked so beautiful in the moonlight, his tanned skin shining like silver as the pleasure flooded his expression.

Ashton trailed kisses over the sensitive skin of Calum’s throat when he threw his head back, his lips parting around moans as they spilt from him like water. He was already panting, his hips rocking into the older boy's fist as he shuddered at the teasing strokes of Ashton's palm.

The chocolate brown of Calum’s eyes sparkled in the starlight as he watched the older boy through barely-open lids, his eyelashes fanning out across his cheekbones. The pain was gone from his face now, replaced with lust and something too delicate to name.

“Fuck,” Calum mumbled breathlessly when Ashton began to jerk him off faster, his pretty eyes widening. The younger boy’s full lips were soft against the Crown Prince’s shoulder when he leant to suck a bruise into the warm skin and Ashton groaned quietly in response, rolling his fingers over the tip of Calum’s cock and coaxing a moan from him as he fucked Ashton’s fist clumsily.

Up until that moment, the palatial estate gardens had been silent save for Calum’s panting breaths and the slick noise of the older boy’s fist but the unexpected sound of footsteps passing beneath them was undeniable. Ashton’s hazel eyes glinted when Calum bit his lip to suppress a moan, his cock swelling as he leaked pre-cum over the older boy’s fingers.

Clearly, Ashton had hit the nail on the head that day in the changing room when he’d joked about Calum wanting someone to spot him. It was painfully evident in the pleasure rippling across the Prince’s flushed face as he gasped loudly into the darkness and Ashton leant closer as he kept the movement of his fist steady, his lips curving into a smirk when Calum gazed at him helplessly, so turned on that he could barely speak.

“It’s the guards,” Ashton said in what might have been a conversational tone if he hadn’t been half-hard himself, his eyes glinting when the younger boy let out a choked moan. “I’d be quiet, curly, or they’ll have to investigate… unless you _want_ them to hear you, of course…” Calum tucked his flushed face out of sight, his whole body shuddering in time with the jerks of Ashton’s fist as he whispered to him. “Gonna make more of those pretty sounds, Cal? Gonna tell _them_ how good I make you feel too?”

“ _Ash_ , fuck,” Calum whimpered, a broken moan tearing out of him when Ashton’s free hand slipped to his chest, his fingertips trailing teasingly over the younger boy’s nipples. The Prince’s hips were jerking now, his eyes damp with tears as the heat coiled irresistibly inside him, settling in his scarred thighs.

The footsteps were closer than ever, the muffled voices growing louder as the guards passed directly below them. Calum’s eyes fluttered shut in embarrassment when Ashton made him whine, the sound needy enough that the guards faltered in confusion, and the older boy swiftly silenced the Prince with a deep kiss, sucking on Calum’s tongue and muffling his moans as he fell apart.

Ashton stroked him through it, his hazel eyes softening as the younger boy shuddered in his arms, whimpering softly at the overstimulation. His dark curls were fluffy around his flushed face, his cheeks damp with tears when the older boy’s hands came to rest warmly on his hips. Ashton stretched up to capture Calum’s lips in a softer kiss, lingering there until the younger boy’s breathing had steadied.

“Hey, curly,” Ashton said softly, opting to ignore his own lust in the face of ensuring that the Prince felt okay again. “How was that?” Beneath his slightly teasing tone, he needed the validation and Calum didn’t disappoint.

“It was perfect,” he said honestly, rubbing the back of his neck with something like awe on his face as he pressed a soft kiss to Ashton’s jaw. “ _You_ were perfect, angel. I feel… I feel really good,” Calum admitted shyly.

Ashton stroked his trembling thighs gently, his palms lingering comfortingly over the bruising.

“Good,” the older boy said softly, a small smile spreading across his face as he rested his cheek sleepily on the younger boy’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. “That was the plan.”

*

There was something different about Luke.

Laura couldn’t put her finger on what exactly had changed but he seemed lighter somehow, a smile curving his lips as he led the way through the palatial estate gardens. The sun was shining overhead, his caramel-coloured curls falling gently across his forehead as he crossed the grass, heading for the hollowed-out oak tree he loved so much.

He was wearing a t-shirt for once, the pale skin of his bare arms shining pearly beneath the sunshine as one of his beloved birds fluttered down to land on his broad shoulder. Laura smiled a little as she watched him, enjoying the way his ocean blue eyes glittered with warmth when she fell into step beside him.

“We haven’t spent time together like this in ages,” Laura noted as they stepped under the treeline. She drew her cardigan tighter around her when the shade made her shiver a little, her expression softening when she caught him watching her with something like regret on his face.

“It’s okay, lofty,” she said quietly, her tone sincere. “I think we’ve both been pretty busy this last month… but there’s nothing stopping us from making up for lost time now, is there?”

“Apart from the second task tomorrow,” Luke said lightly as he settled down cross-legged on the dusty ground. The trunk stretched up familiarly around them and Laura rested her palm on the bark for a moment, feeding it a burst of her magic to keep the tree growing for her little brother.

“I don’t want the others to go to Tenebris,” Luke said suddenly, his voice small enough that it took Laura a moment to even process he’d spoken. He was frowning down at the ground when she turned to face him, gently stroking the pigeon’s feathery head with his fingertip as he gnawed anxious on his bottom lip. “Why does half of the stupid tournament have to be a four hour flight away?”

“Because the contest is all about international cooperation,” Laura said mildly. “It’s only natural that both nations would be expected to host the Elevare.” She sighed, not liking the worry prematurely lining his face when he looked up at her hopelessly. “I know you know this, Luke. We studied it in history.” She sat down beside him with only mild difficulty, smiling wistfully as she realised how much time had passed since they'd fit in here so easily as children. “What’s worrying you about it?”

“I just… I don’t want to lose my friends again,” Luke whispered, apparently embarrassed by the sheen of tears in his eyes as he dropped his gaze, scratching idly at the pale skin of his wrist and startling the bird away. “It was bad enough during the war.”

Laura reached to tangle their fingers together when she noticed the raised red lines his nails had left behind, a lump rising in her throat when she noticed what looked like faint scars littering his wrists. She’d never seen them before - but then, Luke never usually wore short sleeves - and she fought the tears down with difficulty, aware that now wasn’t the time to mention this when her younger brother finally seemed to be feeling less lost.

“You won’t lose them, Luke,” Laura said, her voice slightly choked with the emotions she was struggling to contain. “Ash mentioned the other night that he wanted us to go with him. I’ll catch him later and see if he’s had a chance to ask his parents yet, okay?” She held her brother’s gaze, waiting until he’d managed a watery smile before she squeezed his hand comfortingly. “It’s all gonna work out, Luke,” she murmured. “I promise.”

He leant closer, letting his forehead rest lightly on her shoulder as she dropped a kiss onto his curls.

“I heard Niall’s coming to Tenebris too,” Laura added, her tone more tentative now. “There’s a shortage of healers there – or there was, the last I heard – and I know Fletcher and Anne wouldn’t trust anyone else with Ash.”

“Niall’s going away too?” Luke breathed, his damp blue eyes widening. Laura thumbed a tear from his cheek gently, her expression soft.

“Ash will bring us with him, lofty,” she said firmly. “I’m sure of it.”

Luke slumped down onto the dusty ground with a sigh, stretching out as much as he was able as Laura drew his head into her lap, smoothing his curls comfortingly. He seemed more relaxed now and she was grateful for that, even if her heart _was_ aching at the sight of the red scratches fading on his pale skin.

“Niall healed you, didn’t he?” she whispered before she could stop herself, her eyes prickling with tears. “He fixed you up?”

Luke closed his eyes, apparently too tired to argue or lie. He didn’t even pull away and Laura comforted herself with their closeness, so relieved that she hadn’t lost him to his own pain.

“You knew I was hurting myself?” he asked, his words so soft that she could barely hear him over the sound of birdsong from the pigeons roosting in the trees around them. Laura covered his wrist lightly with her palm, a soft sigh escaping her when she noticed that they were both shaking.

“No,” she said quietly, her heart in her throat. “I never recognised what was happening and… I’m sorry for that, Luke. I’m _so_ sorry. I only ever wanted to keep you safe.”

“Don’t cry, tiny,” Luke murmured, pushing himself clumsily into a sitting position so that he could tangle their fingers together. “So many nights you helped me without even realising it… and now you don’t have to anymore.” He gave a half-hearted shrug at the confusion on her tear-streaked face, his expression softening. “Niall… Niall helped me look at things in perspective and… well, I don’t feel like that anymore. Maybe I will again one day or maybe this is it but… he changed something in me, Laura. I don’t feel so raw anymore.”

“He’s your Michael, isn’t he?” she whispered, her cheeks heating a little at the knowing smile he gave her although she felt no shame. Over the last few weeks, she’d become aware of just how hard she was falling for Michael but it didn’t scare her in the slightest; not when she knew he felt the same way.

There was no point in hiding her emotions anymore. She could see the evidence of how dangerous that was in the faint silvery scars lining her brother’s skin and she swore to herself that she’d never lie to him again. Their relationship had been built on trust and love, and hiding parts of herself – even if they _were_ the parts she was afraid of – was a poor way to repay him... and yet, he'd done the same to her, hadn’t he? He’d kept his secrets and sank even deeper into his despair, and she'd been powerless to help him because she'd been kept in the dark.

It stung to realise that but Laura let the pain out in a sigh, not wanting to bottle things up anymore. She’d never heal if she hid herself away… and neither would Luke. He’d looked up to her all his life and she didn’t want to set a bad example now, when he was so vulnerable and desperate to feel happy again.

She was glad they’d seen through each other’s lies but mostly she was disappointed in herself for not realising what her little brother had been struggling with from the very beginning. Hiding their emotions had caused so much damage and pain, and she was determined never to mask what she was feeling ever again.

Quite suddenly, it struck her just how strange it was that the Claritans ridiculed the Tenebrans for striving to appear emotionless when, really, the two nations weren’t so different after all. It seemed that everyone needed time to heal, regardless of the country they called home, and Laura hoped so badly that the Elevare would give them the chance they deserved to make good.

The people of Cerasus deserved an end to their suffering… and so did Luke.

He was smiling now, finally. It warmed his expression and made his eyes sparkle, and he looked like a little boy for a moment, overflowing with laughter and happiness, and _life_. He was still Laura’s favourite person on the planet. She loved him so much that her heart felt too big for her ribcage.

“ _So_ …” she began teasingly, her eyes gleaming. “You and Niall, huh?”

Luke grinned, cheeks flushing.

“No comment,” he said smugly, managing to remain looking demure until Laura tickled him and he almost head-butted the trunk in an effort to escape. Laura was giggling as she wrapped her arms around his waist, preventing him from fleeing. He froze when her fingertips settled on his ribs – a clear threat of even worse tickling – and she took great delight in planting a gigantic kiss on his nose, making him pout as he rolled his eyes fondly.

“Be quiet,” he said grumpily, even as his lips threatened to twitch into a smile. Laura beamed at him.

“I haven’t said anything yet,” she pointed out. “You’re just proving my point, lofty.” Her face softened though and she couldn’t have suppressed her smile even if she’d wanted to. “I’m happy for you, Luke,” she said gently. “I really mean it. I think Niall could be good for you.”

Luke’s cheeks were still pink but he was no longer trying to escape. He seemed calmer instead, his blue eyes twinkling with something too precious to name.

“Being with Ni… it doesn’t feel like when I was with Ash,” Luke admitted, smiling faintly as a pigeon fluttered down to join them. He hummed softly when it landed on him, nestling into the warm curve where his neck met his shoulder. “Niall makes me happy, Laura… happier than I’ve felt in a really long time. I don’t hurt anymore.”

His sister watched him fondly as he sat there with his legs crossed beneath him, the bird cheeping on his shoulder as the breeze playfully tousled his curls.

He hadn’t seemed so carefree in a very long time and it was wonderful to see him shining so brightly now.

There were no words for how happy Laura felt watching him heal.

*

Ashton woke to a wave of unexpected pleasure washing over him.

Before he’d even opened his eyes, he was moaning softly, his hands falling to settle in Calum’s dark curls where the younger boy was buried between his thighs. The sun was just beginning to rise outside, the early morning light spilling in through the glass doors leading out to the balcony. Ashton's eyes fluttered shut when he felt Calum’s tongue curling teasingly into the slit, whining brokenly as his hips started to jerk.

“ _Cal_ ,” the older boy groaned, his voice rough with sleep and lust as the Prince’s dark eyes flickered up to his face. Calum hummed in response, the vibrations coaxing a whimper from Ashton as his cock leaked. He was already nearing the end and he couldn’t stifle the needy whines pouring out of him when Calum rolled his balls gently in his palm, reaching to stroke one fingertip teasingly over the older boy's hole.

The fire in Ashton’s stomach tightened until, with a broken moan, he fell apart beneath the younger boy’s hands, slumping down onto the mattress as the pleasure washed over him. Calum sucked him through it, lingering there with his tongue still swirling until Ashton was whining and shuddering at the overstimulation, his hazel eyes damp as he nudged the younger boy shakily away. Calum crawled up to lie beside him, flopping down as his cheek came to rest on the Crown Prince’s shoulder. Ashton was still panting weakly but he looked satisfied now and the shivers tearing through him had stopped. Calum pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, hiding his smile in the older boy's crimson curls.

Ashton snuggled into the younger boy’s side warmly, too tired to do much more than that. It was slowly dawning on him that the second challenge was taking place today but it was hard to feel nervous when he was being cradled so safely in the Prince’s arms and he let out a soft sigh, relaxing fully against Calum’s muscular chest as any remaining tension bled out of him.

“Was… was that okay?” the younger boy asked shyly, his tone a little worried. “I just… I mean… you were lying there and you looked so _beautiful_ and I just… um…”

“Don’t fret, curly,” Ashton interrupted, stretching to press a soft kiss to the Prince’s full lips as his cheeks flushed pink. “That was probably the best way to wake up ever.”

“Good,” Calum breathed, forgetting his own lust for a moment as he watched the fondness sparkling in the older boy’s pretty hazel eyes. The magnitude of Calum’s feelings for Ashton scared him a little bit and he was quick to change the subject, his voice taking on a teasing lilt before the affection he could feel shone too brightly in his gaze.

“Good luck today, angel,” Calum murmured, his dimples creasing his cheeks as he smirked a little. “You’ll need it.”

“Oh yeah? Gonna wipe the floor with me again, curly?” Ashton asked lightly, one eyebrow rising teasingly. “Good luck with that. I have my bonus time, remember? Maybe _I’m_ going to beat you instead.”

Calum rolled his eyes fondly, leaning over to kiss the older boy silent as he tangled his fingers lightly in the older boy’s curls. His tongue stroked over Ashton’s, making him shudder in the younger boy’s arms as he moaned at the taste of himself in the Prince’s mouth. Calum reached down lazily to stroke his flushed cock, a soft moan escaping him which only deepened when Ashton weakly batted his hand away so that he could touch him instead.

“Shower?” the older boy suggested mildly, his eyes twinkling when the younger boy bit his lip. “Think it’s time to return the favour, curly.”

“Worried about your sheets?” Calum asked, aiming for a teasing tone although it missed the mark somewhat when his breath caught as the older boy rolled his fingers playfully over the head of his cock.

“Stop being so argumentative,” Ashton muttered, pretending he _wasn’t_ amused by it as he reached for the younger boy’s hand, entwining their fingers together. “Now c’mon, curly,” he said softly, pressing a brief kiss to the Prince’s jaw. “Let me make you feel good.”

Calum almost tripped over in his haste to follow the older boy towards the shower.

Ashton was kind enough not to mention it.

*

The two hour journey from Aureum to Gravenwick was doing a very good job of lulling Ashton to sleep. After the thoroughly enjoyable morning he’d spent in bed with Calum, the Crown Prince was quite drowsy now although he hoped he’d perk up by the time they finally reached the arena. He was sure the adrenaline would do a good enough job of injecting some energy into him but, for the moment, he was content to simply relax and enjoy a rare moment of calm with his parents.

“You seem a lot less nervous this time around, Ash,” Fletcher noted from where he was sitting opposite his son, his fingers entwined with his wife’s. “Last time we made the journey to Gravenwick, you were so jittery that you could barely sit still. Sierra had to put you out twice if I remember rightly.”

Ashton huffed out a laugh, glancing over to where his bodyguard was dozing in the seat beside him, her cheek resting against the cool glass.

“I’m definitely less stressed now,” the Crown Prince said, smiling wryly when his mum reached out to pat his knee. Fletcher watched his family fondly, dressed in another of his fine tunics even despite the burning summer heat outside. “I think all the training I’ve been doing has helped me too,” Ashton said thoughtfully as he settled back more comfortably in his seat. “I feel stronger than I have in months.”

“We know how hard you’ve been working to build up your strength again, love,” Anne said warmly, her eyes glittering with pride. “We’re so proud of you, Ash.”

“We truly are,” Fletcher agreed, his voice softer now. “You’re turning your life around, Ash. You’re representing Claritas in the Elevare and building relationships with people who were once our enemies, and… well... I feel safe in the knowledge that you’ll rule Claritas one day when I’m gone. You’re growing into a wonderful man, Ash. I couldn’t think of anyone better to represent our great nation.”

A lump rose in Ashton’s throat and he swallowed past it with difficulty, giving his dad a watery smile as Sierra stirred beside him, sighing in her sleep. Anne’s face softened as she watched her son struggling to contain his emotions and she took pity on him, quickly changing the subject.

“Are you excited for the celebration tonight, love?” she asked, smiling fondly. “It’s all anyone’s been talking about.”

“I am,” Ashton said, still a little choked up when Fletcher reached to clasp his hand for a moment. “It should be a fun way to celebrate the end of the first half of the Elevare. I’m glad I won’t have to use it as an opportunity to say goodbye to Laura and Luke either.” His eyes blazed with gratitude as he looked between both of his parents, more thankful than he could put into words. “I’m so happy you’re letting them come to Tenebris with me. I don’t think I’d be brave enough to spend half a year there without them.”

“I think you’d be surprised what you’re capable of,” Anne said although her expression remained warm. “Of course we’re sending them with you though, love. What kind of parents would we be if we didn’t do everything possible to make you comfortable and happy?”

“Well, it means a lot to me,” Ashton said honestly, his hazel eyes soft. He saddened for a moment as he thought of Calum and Mali; their tense silences when their parents were discussed or the way Michael looked between the pair of them miserably sometimes, like he knew something Ashton didn’t. “Having you two as my parents makes me luckier than a lot of people.”

“Such flattery,” Fletcher teased, his eyes twinkling as he nudged Anne, lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “I’m sure he’s only saying this so we’ll extend his curfew at the party tonight.”

“I still have a curfew?!” Ashton demanded, laughing despite himself at his parents’ matching smirks. “I’m a champion of the Elevare! I don’t need a curfew!”

“Let us be your parents for just a little bit longer, love,” Anne said lightly, her eyes soft. “We won’t be able to meddle in your affairs so easily once you’re in Tenebris. We have to irritate you just a _little_ bit more before you leave us.”

Ashton’s lips twitched into a faint smile, equal parts sad and happy at the prospect of leaving Claritas behind in order to compete in the second half of the Elevare. He was more relieved than he could put into words that none of his friends would be left behind this time and he let that thought comfort him when the anxiety of leaving his parents threatened to overwhelm him.

“You’ll have fun at the party regardless of what time we drag you home,” Fletcher said, his smirk proving that he probably had no intention of making Ashton come home before midnight. “Just remember to indulge as much as possible, okay? You won’t get so many excuses to eat rich food and wear sparkly outfits in Tenebris so don’t waste the opportunity.”

“Oh, I plan to make the most of tonight,” Ashton said with a shrug, his tone becoming just a little sarcastic as he continued to speak, grinning crookedly. “I’ve been meaning to show Calum some Claritan culinary delights for quite a while. The party this evening seems like a good time to showcase that.”

Fletcher nodded in agreement, his eyes drawn to the window where a glimpse of the sea was visible beyond the rocky terrain. Anne remained watching her son though, a slightly knowing smile curving her lips as she watched him curiously. Ashton squirmed a little under her gaze, desperately hoping that his cheeks weren’t heating up.

“So,” she began, smirking a little. “You and Calum seem to have been getting along splendidly lately.” Her eyes flickered to the sleeping bodyguard for a moment and Ashton bit his lip, trying not to smile awkwardly in his embarrassment. “Sierra’s been at a loose end recently, Ash. Have you actually left your bedroom these past few weeks?”

Ashton spluttered, cheeks flaming although he did his best to appear unruffled. Fletcher was smiling through the window, clearly trying to hide his amusement as Anne raised an eyebrow curiously, clearly enjoying herself if the wry expression on her face was any indication.

“Of course I’ve left my - I mean, we aren’t -” Ashton pressed his lips together for a moment, taking a steadying breath as he stared pointedly out at the sunny afternoon, refusing to make eye contact. “I’ve been training at the gym every single day,” he said loftily, hoping his voice was steady. “And if Calum happens to accompany me on those occasions - and you choose to interpret that in any way other than platonic - I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“So you and Calum are -”

“Nope,” Ashton interrupted her, definitely blushing now as he searched frantically for a subject change. “I wonder what Harry will wear during his commentary tonight,” he said, grimacing a little that _that_ was the only topic he’d thought of. “Do you think it’ll have sequins or flowers? Maybe a bit of lace to shake things up a bit?”

“Well, I’m sure we’re all eager to wait and see,” Anne said, her eyes twinkling just enough that Ashton wondered for a moment if there was a double-meaning to her words; namely, his potential relationship with Calum.

“Do you know something?” Fletcher said suddenly, his tone thoughtful. “I’ve been watching A Starlet In Claritas this season and Harry’s actually a very good contestant. I’ve voted for him three times now. I’d quite like to see him win.”

Anne watched her husband tenderly, biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing at how earnest he looked as he began to relay to them just how talented Harry had been during his audition for the show. Ashton watched the pair of them fondly, his dimples creasing his cheeks as he smiled at them.

He’d miss them so much when he flew out to Tenebris, even if they _would_ be joining him to watch each challenge, but he didn’t argue about the necessity of leaving his country behind. His parents needed him to do this; needed him to represent their nation and bring glory to Claritas, and he’d do whatever the King and Queen asked of him without question.

Ashton loved his parents more than he could put into words.

He just wanted to make them proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought so please remember to leave comments and kudos :)  
> I can't wait to write the second challenge for you!


	9. Love Shining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> Strangely enough, this was actually one of my favourite chapters to write so far - I think it really let me explore my characters in more depth and I hope you'll enjoy discovering more about them!  
> As always, thank you to the lovely Laura for all of her help and encouragement. This story wouldn't exist without her.
> 
> Trigger warning for brief mentions of self-harm (non-graphic) and injury/threat.

**_Do you feel like a young god?_ **

**_You know the two of us are just young gods,_ **

**_And we'll be flying through the streets with the people underneath,_ **

**_And they're running, running, running._ **

_\- Young God, Halsey_

 

“I still hate these ugly suits,” Ashton complained from where he was struggling into the garment by the benches. Calum smiled smugly as he padded out of one of the cubicles, his hair damp from the showers.

“Well, you should’ve taken my advice then,” the Prince said smugly, his dark eyes twinkling a little when Ashton shot him a weak scowl. “The suits are way easier to get into if your skin is wet first.”

“No thank you, curly,” the older boy said haughtily, trying hard not to smile. “I don’t think showering first is a good idea. You’ll only end up chafing.”

“I will not chafe!” Calum protested, snickering although the sound cut off sharply when someone rapped on the changing room door. It creaked open and a familiar face appeared, their expression deceptively innocent although a smirk was clearly fighting to break free.

“Who’s chafing?” Michael asked sweetly, ducking swiftly when Calum threw his towel at him as Ashton let out a snort of laughter. The Prince stuck his tongue out sulkily and Michael grinned, looking less innocent by the second. “I only came to wish the two of you good luck,” he pointed out, eyes twinkling. “And this is how you repay me? By throwing things at my head?”

“To be fair, you do make the idea of throwing things at you _very_ appealing,” Calum said with a shrug. “You can hardly blame people, Mikey.”

“That’s mean,” Ashton said, giving Calum a reprimanding poke on the nose as his lips curled into a sly smile. “Don’t be mean to Mike, Cal. Luke already keeps beating him at that stupid game they both like so much. Don't make him feel worse than he already does.”

“You’re as bad as each other!” Michael exclaimed, pretending to be offended. “I come in here out of the goodness of my heart and all I get are insults!”

“I’m sure Laura will find a way to make you feel better,” Calum said, huffing out a laugh when Ashton elbowed him lightly in the ribs, his expression reproving. “What? Anyone with eyes can tell that the pair of them are –”

“You’re just as bad, Princess,” Michael said pointedly, eyes narrowing a little even as his lips curled up in amusement. “You and _angel_ over there aren’t as subtle as you’d probably like to imagine.”

Ashton spluttered, turning away to continue struggling with the zip of his suit because it was easier than watching Calum’s face flush the colour of a tomato. He blushed himself when the Prince reached automatically to help him fasten the garment, trying hard not to remember the _last_ time they’d been in this situation because… damn, thinking about Calum’s hands on his skin and the soft kiss he’d pressed to the corner of the younger boy’s mouth was _dangerous_ right now. It didn’t matter that Ashton might not hate the idea of someone catching him when he was turned on because… fuck, this was _Michael_ and that was far too weird.

Catching Calum’s gaze for the briefest moment, he could see his own thoughts reflected back at him; the awkwardness of the situation and the burn of _something_ lust-driven still stubbornly smouldering in the younger boy’s pretty eyes.

“Thank you for just proving my point,” Michael said smugly but, despite the bite to his words, his expression was nothing but fond as he watched his friends. His words made them both jump and he rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to make what would presumably be another barb before his comm chimed in his pocket, startling him.

“Oh,” Michael murmured, sobering visibly as he read the message before he glanced up at Calum, biting his lip nervously. “Apparently your dad is waiting for you outside, Cal. He wants to have a chat about something before you go out there.” Michael hesitated before sliding the comm back into his pocket, sighing softly. “I… I think he’s pissed that your comm is switched off,” the older boy said apologetically. “Sorry, Princess.”

Ashton watched uncertainly as Calum straightened his shoulders, inhaling deeply. He looked like he was preparing for a fight and the anxiety burning in Michael’s eyes as he watched his best friend stride towards the door of the changing room did nothing to make the Crown Prince feel any better.

“You think he’ll be okay?” Ashton asked nervously once Calum had gone, his voice small. Michael sighed as he dropped down onto the bench beside the older boy, his lips downturned unhappily.

“I hope so,” he said quietly, his expression fiercely protective. “But we’ll look after him if he isn’t.”

Michael gave his hand a comforting squeeze and, although it took Ashton by surprise, he was quick to tighten their grip as his teeth worried at his bottom lip.

“Nervous for the challenge today?” Michael asked softly, presumably just to change the subject. Ashton shrugged, smiling weakly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Not really,” he said honestly. “Calum already knocked me on my arse in front of the entire planet. It can’t get much worse than that, can it?” He grinned suddenly, his hazel eyes twinkling. “And besides, we’ve got the party tonight, haven’t we?” he added. “I want to leave Claritas with a bang.”

“Heading to Tenebris in a blaze of glory, eh?” Michael asked with a silly wink. The older boy laughed in response, running a hand through his red curls ruefully as he stretched out his back, hoping it would be less painful than last time.

“Definitely,” Ashton said firmly, his lips curling into a grin. “No one will forget this party in a hurry, Michael. I think we can be sure of that.”

*

Calum stepped out into the corridor with a heavy heart, his jaw squared as his dark eyes settled on his father. David was waiting for him a short distance away, his expression inscrutable as he tapped one foot on the ground, arms folded across his chest.

“Come to wish me good luck, have you, dad?” Calum asked with a forced smile, unsure where the sudden burst of confidence had come from. It reminded him of their conversation on his first trip to Gravenwick for a moment; reminded him of the frightening realisation he’d come to as it sank in just how irreparably their relationship had been damaged since the Prince had been announced as the Tenebran champion.

“Quite,” David said coolly, his dark eyes narrowing a little as he took in the defiance on his son’s face. Calum tried to subdue the glare he could feel settling on his features but it was difficult when he remembered the fight they’d had in the transport after he’d refused to follow through with his father’s plan. Calum had offered the King forgiveness and David had flung it back in his face, and that was something the Prince was unable to forget.

They watched each other in silence for a moment, both of them simply staring before Calum took a deep breath, uncurling his fists with difficulty.

“Do you have something to say to me, dad?” he asked heavily. “Because if not, I need to finish getting ready. The task starts really soon.”

“Calum,” David ground out, gritting his teeth like that word alone was difficult. “I… I have an offer for you… and I need you to listen to me. I’ll only say this once.”

The Prince stiffened, his back pressing subtly against the wall as he eyed his father warily. When the King remained silent, Calum’s anger flared to life in his chest. He glanced up and down the corridor nervously before taking a hesitant step closer, bristling visibly as he scowled at the older man.

“If this is another ploy to get me to agree to hurt Ashton, you’re wasting your time,” Calum hissed, his voice cold. “I wouldn’t harm a hair on his head.” A lump rose in his throat as he recalled his father’s awful plan and the horrific thought of a world where Ashton no longer existed, and the Prince fisted the tears from his eyes fiercely, startled by what was _almost_ hatred burning in his chest.

“If you force me to hurt him,” Calum said slowly, his dark eyes glistening wetly. “I’ll never forgive you, dad. Not for as long as I live.”

“Well, that’s where my offer comes in,” David said sharply, looking a little affronted by his son’s vehemence. “But before I continue, let me stress the importance of you winning the Elevare, Calum.” His gaze was frighteningly piercing as he looked down at his son, his gloved hands curling at his sides with the force of the emotions he was suppressing. “My offer is simple, Calum. If you beat Ashton – if you stamp him into the dust and make it clear that Tenebris is the true winner of the tournament – then I may be willing to overlook your part in the plan we previously discussed.” He watched the glimmer of hope growing in his son’s eyes with poorly-disguised satisfaction, his lips pressing into a thin smile. “Do we have a deal?”

Calum watched him uncertainly, his fingertips digging into his thighs automatically before he remembered the sadness he’d seen in the Crown Prince’s face the night he’d caught the younger boy hurting himself. Calum let his hands fall to hang limply by his sides with difficulty, taking a deep breath as he tried to consider his father’s offer from every angle.

“You mean… if I win the Elevare, Ashton doesn’t have to die?” the Prince asked after a long pause, hardly daring to hope. David’s eyes flashed.

“Not quite, son,” he said flatly, leaving no room for argument. “But you won’t be the one to kill him.”

“Dad,” Calum breathed, his eyes brimming with tears as the cold determination flooded his father’s face. “Dad, _please_. You don’t have to do this. Ash is -”

“Oh, your uncle’s murderer is _Ash_ now, is he?” David asked silkily, his eyes hardening. “I won’t let him ruin you too, Calum. I’m doing this for your own good.”

“You’re ruining my life! That’s what you’re doing!” Calum cried, cringing as his voice echoed around the corridor. His eyes were definitely boiling with tears now and he blinked them away frantically, terrified that a reporter might slip past security and spot him losing control just minutes before the second task.

The sound of footsteps approaching became apparent and Calum bit his fist to keep his sob in, hating the fact that David looked just as mortified as his son in the moments before he schooled his expression into something much blanker. Calum copied him, feeling like a child as he stared up at his father helplessly, his eyes widening in horror when a member of staff rounded the corner.

David drew his son into his arms swiftly, the movement tense and awkward as his gloved hands settled firmly on the Prince’s back. The embrace was completely alien and, although almost everything in Calum wanted to pull away – a tiny part of him wanted to cling on and never let go – the Prince allowed the hug because he knew it served a purpose. It gave him a chance to control himself; to smother his emotions and dry his eyes, and catch his breath once more.

The staff member passed them without incident and Calum drew away the moment his father’s hands slipped from his back, his flushed cheeks damp with tears. He made to storm back into the changing room but David grabbed his arm, the touch threatening even despite his ever-present gloves. Calum shuddered in his grip, his eyelashes spiky and damp as he glared at his father.

“Try your hardest to win, son,” David said warningly before some of the tension leaked from his shoulders. “And… good luck out there. You made Tenebris proud last time. Let’s try for a repeat of that, shall we?”

Calum tore his arm free from the King’s grip, his face heating when he noticed the water cooler nearby for the first time. The liquid inside it was churning noisily and he dried his eyes roughly with the sleeves of his stupid suit as he struggled to calm himself, fighting to keep the misery and pain from his expression. He half-ran back into the changing room, only gathering his wits enough to slow down when the door swung shut behind him.

Ashton and Michael rose from the bench when they saw him, both looking concerned enough that Calum realised he hadn’t done a good enough job of hiding his distress. The Crown Prince approached him hesitantly, his eyes widening a little when the closest shower released a sudden cascade of water nearby, clattering noisily onto the floor. Michael hurried to fix it, aware that it would only upset Calum further if it continued to snake across the tiles because his best friend would view that as evidence of his weakness.

“Hey now,” Ashton murmured, his voice soft as he cuddled the younger boy to his chest, biting his lip when the Prince’s expression crumpled. Calum wrapped his arms around the older boy tightly, hiding his tear-streaked face beneath Ashton’s chin as his trembling hands settled on the Crown Prince’s scarred back. “Deep breaths, curly, c’mon now. Dry those pretty eyes.”

Michael chose that moment to reappear, joining their hug with barely a moment of hesitation as he pressed a chaste kiss to his best friend’s dark curls. Calum calmed a little as they held him close but he still didn’t feel brave enough to raise his head; not when his eyes were stinging with tears as he dwelled on the horrible reality of Ashton being murdered by the Tenebran King.

All Calum wanted to do was keep the Crown Prince safe.

It would kill him if something hurt Ashton.

“Cal?” Michael asked softly, his tone undeniably worried. “Cal, what happened?”

Ashton was watching the younger boy fearfully, his hazel eyes damp and wide with concern when the Prince simply shook his head, his lips pressed together tightly.

Calum couldn’t bring himself to answer. He was scared he’d burst into tears if he spoke now… and besides, they both knew him too well. They’d see his guilt in _seconds_ if he looked either of them in the face.

Calum shook his head again, keeping his eyes tightly shut as he forced a smile he didn’t feel.

“I’m fine,” he said weakly, his words choked around the lump in his throat. “Everything’s fine. I’m just nervous.”

“Well, you needn’t be,” Ashton said softly, his tone a little wounded at the younger boy’s blatant lie although he was clearly trying to hide it. “You already beat me last time. Start as you mean to go on, right?”

Ashton headed for the door then, his shoulders slumped with dejection, and Michael sighed when Calum withered in his grip, his cheeks sticky with tears as he watched the Crown Prince’s retreating back in dismay.

“You’re not gonna go after him?” Michael asked uncertainly, his brow creasing into a confused frown when Ashton slipped silently out of the room, presumably heading towards the arena floor. Calum bit his lip, his heart aching in his chest.

“No time,” he whispered, hating himself. “I’ll… I’ll talk to him later... once I’ve got my shit together again.”

Michael sighed, pursing his lips unhappily.

“I really hope you know what you’re doing, Cal,” Michael said softly, his green eyes concerned as he gave his best friend’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Calum leant into the touch for a moment, exhaling shakily as he finally got his breathing back under control.

“Me too, Mikey,” he murmured, still unable to look the older boy in the face. “More than you know.”

*

The screams and cheers of the crowd were barely touching Ashton today.

He felt small under the harsh lights, his nerves and sadness threatening to take his breath away as he stood beside Calum on the starting line. Each contestant had been given a rucksack and placed before an arch of vines, and Ashton eyed the verdant greenery warily as he clutched the medallion hanging around his neck, feeling the thrum of power beneath his fingers. He recognised the plants that made up the archway after long summer walks with Laura and he bit his lip as he identified the claustra flowers blooming on the vines. The petals caused skin irritation that would gradually become worse – especially after prolonged exposure – and Ashton was careful to keep his distance from them, biting his lip uneasily when he glanced over and saw Calum watching the flowers curiously.

“Don’t touch them, Cal,” Ashton muttered, his words barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of the crowd taking their seats. “They’ll burn your skin.” The Crown Prince turned away before he received an answer, squaring his shoulders when he felt the younger boy’s gaze settling on his face. Ashton felt pathetic that his feelings had been so easily hurt by Calum hiding behind his defences and he pressed his lips together hard as he stared up towards the commentary box, silently pleading for a distraction so that he could avoid getting upset on a planet-wide broadcast.

Fortunately, he didn’t have long to wait.

The volume of the crowd quietened as a spotlight shone down and, with his usual flourish, Harry Styles strode out into the commentary box. His hair had grown longer since the first task, twisted into elaborate ringlets as he waved a bejewelled hand at the spectators. He was dressed in a navy blue suit, the shimmering material interrupted with sparkling silver moons and stars which seemed to emit a curious glow beneath the piercing beam of light.

“Welcome, one and all, to the second task of the Elevare, the Venari!” Harry cried, his voice amplified around the arena as he spread his arms in greeting. “If the knowledge of my existence has somehow escaped some poor souls in the furthest corners of Cerasus, I’m Harry Styles – your host for the tournament, fashionista and baker of truly _excellent_ cupcakes, and quarter-finalist of A Starlet In Claritas!”

A murmur of laughter rippled through the crowd and, apparently cheered by this, Harry stepped to the edge of the commentary box, the constellations on his suit slowly drifting across the material as a shooting star soared across one of his lapels in a burst of silver glitter.

“Right, enough about my achievements!” he declared in what he probably hoped was a modest tone, sweeping his dark curls out of his face with an elegant wave of his hand. “Let me explain to you all the intricacies of the Venari. If you look down towards our dashing young champions below, you’ll see that they’ve both been equipped with some rather snazzy rucksacks – unfortunately _not_ from my own fashion range although I certainly suggested it. Does anyone know the reason for these bags?”

Harry paused like he was expecting an answer before his signature grin lit up his face, sending his green eyes sparkling.

“By the end of the next hour, those rucksacks should be fit to bursting with magical artefacts and weapons, all of which will benefit our champions during the fourth and final challenge,” Harry announced. “My friends, to put it simply: the Venari is essentially a scavenger hunt. Our contestants must race each other across the arena floor to locate as many items as possible in under sixty minutes, preferably _without_ stumbling into any traps along the way - and remember, champions, it would be unwise to let your guard down. The stakes are higher than ever!”

Ashton gulped as he listened to that, exchanging a brief nervous glance with Calum as he tightened the straps of the rucksack where it was dangling from his shoulders. The medallion on his chest was heating up a little now, lifting on the chain as it drifted closer to the archway. Clearly the enchantment was growing stronger as the seconds ticked away and Ashton felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he curled his hands into fists, taking a deep steadying breath.

“As I’m sure you all remember from the exciting Impedimentum challenge, our Claritan Crown Prince will be granted early entry today,” Harry reminded the spectators. “Now, if you’ll all look to the comm screen where the live broadcast is being displayed, you’ll be able to see a countdown in the corner.” Harry gestured to it grandly as he spoke, his glittering blue nail varnish sparkling beneath the lights. “As soon as the task begins, the countdown will activate, enabling us to keep track of how much time our champions have remaining as they gather as many powerful items as possible.”

The lights above the arena floor illuminated suddenly, making Ashton and Calum squint. The crowd gasped in shock as it became apparent just how much had changed since the first task and the older boy felt his heart sinking as he tried in vain to peer through the twisting vines that made up the archway, desperate for some small glimpse of what they were about to be up against.

“Without further ado,” Harry began, his words filling the arena. “Ashton, please approach your archway. The medallion should react with the vines and – Aha! You’ve been granted passage.” The flowers around the arch withered and the Crown Prince relaxed as he stepped closer, no longer worried about the petals burning his skin.

“Your ten minute bonus time starts now, Ashton,” Harry declared, a smile curving his lips as the Crown Prince stepped through the archway into the shadowy glade beyond. “Good luck.”

The flowers bloomed around the archway once more and, as the vines blocked any escape attempt, Ashton caught a brief glimpse of Calum’s frightened face staring back at him before the arena was hidden from sight.

He exhaled shakily at the sudden silence, fighting to keep the fear from his expression as he squared his shoulders warily, peering into the gloom. He knew there’d be cameras hidden all over the place and that was why he tried his hardest to appear confident. There was no way on all of Cerasus that he’d give the press any material to hold over him at all – _especially_ not footage of the Crown Prince cowering in fear because he didn’t like being stranded alone in a dark forest.

Squaring his jaw, Ashton stepped forwards into the shadows, his boots cracking the twigs beneath his feet as he hefted the rucksack higher on his shoulders. He couldn’t hear Harry’s commentary from the arena floor and, although he understood the reason for this on an objective level - being able to hear what his contestant was doing, and vice versa, would put them both at a disadvantage - it did nothing to put Ashton’s nerves at ease.

The forest stretched out sinisterly around him, the ground rising in jagged cliffs and plunging into narrow ravines as a deep river cut through the landscape, the water lapping at the banks. The magic in the air was tangible, the enchantments crackling around the Crown Prince as goosebumps rose on his skin.

As Ashton gazed about him at the gnarled trees pressing in, he felt the dread rising inside him like a wave. An hour to explore this place felt like nothing at all but he knew there was no point wasting the extra time he’d been given. It would be mortifying if Calum’s archway opened and the younger boy found Ashton standing frozen to the spot, too cowardly to step off the path.

Damnit, Ashton had fought on the _Boneflats_! Why should he be scared of a little enchanted forest?

He slipped beneath the foliage with more confidence, his stride lengthening as the shadows swallowed him whole. The trail forked up ahead and Ashton slowed, biting his lip as he considered both options nervously. One path led dangerously close beside something that looked suspiciously like a mortifern - although _surely_ that couldn’t be the case with this much magic in the air, unless someone was trying to do the champions serious damage - and the second trail was interrupted by a gigantic web spanning between several trees. The mysterious strands were thick and glistening with something that smelt acrid enough that the Crown Prince decided to risk the wrath of the mortifern, figuring that it was wiser to deal with something he was familiar with than whatever mysterious creature had created the web.

Ashton skirted past the mortifern warily, taking care to avoid the acid welling inside the carnivorous plant as he pushed through the undergrowth beneath his feet. The scent of the bloom brought him back to the Boneflats for a moment; reminded him of the danger of harvesting the plants and how brutally the flowers could burn if he was reckless enough to let them touch his skin.

Ashton’s heart rose into his throat as he slipped safely past, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness as he crept deeper into the woodland, opting not to use his flames to light the way in case there were any more mortiferns lurking in the trees. A brief burst of cheering sounded suddenly, sending his pulse roaring in his veins as his heart clenched in panic, and he knew instinctively that Calum had just been granted entry into the forest too.

Ashton needed to move faster.

He was weaving between a cluster of trees with awkwardly low-lying branches when he stopped suddenly, his attention caught by a glimmer of silver in the darkness. He peered over, his eyes widening when he spotted a wicked-looking dagger tucked inside the hollow of one of the trees nearby. Claustra flowers coiled threateningly around the trunk but, since there were no mortiferns in sight, Ashton figured it would be safe enough to burn the flowers away, provided he held his breath so as not to inhale any of the smoke since that would undoubtedly damage his lungs.

The roots of the trees were submerged beneath stagnant water and Ashton only realised this after he’d stepped closer, cringing as it sloshed over the top of his boots. It seemed deeper in places - he even thought he could see fishes flickering beneath the surface - and he bit his lip as he gripped one of the overhanging branches tightly, wriggling closer to the dagger as he prepared to summon a flame.

He was already reaching towards the nearest claustra flowers when a sudden scratching sound caught his attention. A small dark-furred animal scurried into view and, after catching a brief glimpse of red-rimmed eyes and pointed fangs, Ashton felt his heart sink in his chest. It was a mordere - a vicious little rodent with a painful (although fortunately nontoxic) bite - and he cursed when he saw it, silently hoping that it had been fed recently so that it wouldn’t try to take a chunk out of his flesh.

“Easy,” he breathed, feeling increasingly stupid when he realised that all of the spectators were probably jeering at him right this second for trying to reason with the beast. “Easy now.”

The creature’s claws appeared, biting briefly into the bark, and Ashton was already deciding that perhaps the dagger wasn’t worth the effort when the mordere leapt at him, snarling fiercely as its claws tore his cheek, sending him staggering backwards.

Ashton hit the water with a cry, completely disoriented as he sank like a stone. He’d been expecting it to be shallow but… fuck, it seemed to stretch on for _miles_ as the inky shadows crept up to meet him. No amount of thrashing would help either; the roots were too closely packed to allow him any chance of an easy escape and his lungs were screaming at him for air as he plunged down, reaching uselessly towards the surface.

The panic inside threatened to consume him as the freezing water numbed the burning pain of the claw marks on his cheek. The bubbles drifting towards the surface as the last of Ashton’s oxygen supply escaped him seemed to be mocking him and he struggled with renewed anxiety when his feet hit the muddy bottom, the reeds twisting themselves tightly around his ankles.

Ashton struggled but it was no use. It seemed that no one was coming to save him and he was already out of air.

He was as good as dead.

*

The confidence Calum had exuded during the Impedimentum was long gone.

Something about the Venari felt a lot more frightening and he felt like a little kid who should never even have _considered_ participating in the Elevare when he crept through the archway, heeding Ashton's advice as he slipped beneath the mysterious flowers.

The first task had seemed easier; maybe just because it had been a chance for Calum to prove his strength and show off how hard he’d trained… but this challenge didn’t seem the same somehow. He’d have to be shrewd and alert; would have to consider every option carefully before he took any chances.

The hour stretched ahead of him painfully and Calum felt sick with nerves as he glanced over his shoulder uncertainly, hating the way he felt like he was being watched by whatever was lurking in the forest. He wished he could’ve gone in with Ashton at the same time; wished the atmosphere between the pair of them wasn’t so _strained_ after Calum had shut him out again, right after promising he wouldn’t.

His fingers itched to bite into his thighs but he kept his hands curled into fists, trying hard not to hurt himself when he knew how much it upset the people he cared about. Unfortunately, that line of thought inevitably led to David and Calum’s heart ached in his chest as he recalled their conversation in the corridor; remembered the unnatural feeling of his father’s arms wrapped around him and the tears boiling in Calum’s eyes when David told him that he was planning to kill Ashton in order to keep his son safe.

As the trees soared up around him, Calum realised that it didn’t matter in the slightest that he’d won the first task. He needed to win this one too – needed to win every challenge – but the Crown Prince had the upper hand this time after being granted early access into the forest. Calum knew Ashton was smarter than him too; quicker and sharper, and even more fiercely determined to do well after he’d lost the Impedimentum.

Maybe it didn’t matter how hard Calum tried today. Maybe there was no way he could win the Elevare; no way he could bring victory to Tenebris and convince his father to let Ashton live. Maybe Calum had lost the battle before he’d even begun.

Movement in the undergrowth nearby jarred him from his thoughts and, as the Prince’s dark eyes settled on a frighteningly familiar web blocking the path ahead of him, a growing rumble sounded, like many heavy feet striking the ground. Calum turned and ran, his blood as cold as ice in his veins, his boots pounding over the rotting debris scattering the floor as he tried to keep from falling.

The heavy steps slamming against the cracked earth were louder now and Calum didn’t let himself slow, not even when his path took him past one of those awful flowers that had caused him so much agony during the first task. He slipped past it as quietly as he could, his heart pounding with panic as he heard a screech behind him; heard the creak of a tree falling as something huge forced its way after him.

Calum lost it in a grove of trees, wading through the thick mud before he dragged himself up into the branches. Climbing the trees was a thousand times easier than climbing the rock wall during the first task – it definitely helped that he couldn’t see the audience watching him – and Calum took shelter there until the creature below had blundered away. He was about to descend when he became aware of a low humming noise and, frowning in confusion, the Prince’s gaze alighted on a flask tucked into the foliage above him.

His heart skipped a beat with excitement when he reached for it, his eyes widening at the subtle warmth emanating through the metal. He brought it closer to his face, peering at the contents curiously until he identified it as liquid fire which he knew would be invaluable during the final challenge. It would take away the advantage Ashton’s abilities gave him.

Calum stowed the flask carefully in his rucksack, relaxing a little as he finally began to feel an echo of the confidence he'd felt during the Impedimentum. He climbed back down onto the muddy ground cautiously, his gaze furtive as he scanned his surroundings to ensure that he was alone.

He was just trying to decide which direction to go in next – the ‘ _away from the mortifern_ ’ went unsaid – when a noise shattered the silence around him. It sounded like a cry of pain – it sounded like _Ashton_ – and, as the dread welled inside the Prince like poison, he heard a faint splash, followed by an ominous silence.

“Fuck,” Calum cursed, hurling himself through the mud in pursuit of the sound as he reached out with his abilities, trying to locate the water source. Clearly the older boy was in trouble and Calum forgot the competition in a heartbeat, already searching desperately for the Crown Prince because Ashton _needed_ him. The task would have to wait.

Calum broke through the treeline, his boots splashing in sudden puddles as he approached a cluster of trees with low-lying branches. Deep claw marks slashed the bark and he avoided those areas as best he could, his heart pounding unpleasantly in his chest as he looked around frantically. Ashton was nowhere to be seen and Calum leant against one of the closest trees heavily, struggling to calm himself as he reached out once more with his magic.

He froze in horror when he sensed how much deeper the rippling water became around the roots of the trees; when he detected the tiny bubbles bursting on the surface which could mean nothing good. Calum stumbled closer, taking care to keep one arm looped around a branch overhead as he extended a hand, focusing on the tiny waves breaking against the tree trunks as he identified the violent movement far below the surface.

Ashton was trapped down there – maybe even _drowning_ – and Calum’s heart felt like it had stopped beating in his chest when he focused on the body writhing below the water, curling his hand into a fist and wrenching it upwards. Ashton should have shot up with force – that was how it had always happened before, on those rare occasions when Calum had had to use his powers to save someone during a childhood of playing by the lakes in Effervo – but nothing happened.

Ashton remained below the surface, unable to swim… unable to _breathe_.

Calum could feel the resistance as something fought to keep the Crown Prince from floating to the surface and… fuck. _Fuck_. There was only one thing he could think of that might help the older boy but it was so dangerous. Calum would exhaust himself; might even end up joining Ashton drifting limply in the current but… no. This was the only way and it was a sacrifice the Prince was more than willing to make.

Ashton had suffered enough. Calum couldn’t stand by and let that happen again.

He _couldn’t_. Ashton needed him.

Calum plunged his hand through the surface like a knife, exerting as much energy as possible as he forced the water apart. It fought him with every centimetre he gained but he kept pushing it anyway, his desperation lending him strength as he panted. With one final wave of his hand, he sent the parted water flooding out in opposite directions, forceful enough that one of the nearby trees fell with a mighty crash as the floodwater slipped away, revealing a gorge cutting between the twisted roots.

Ashton was lying crumpled at the bottom, his skin splattered with mud and blood, his ankles bound with reeds. A horrible choking sound escaped him as he coughed up water but at least he was breathing and Calum let that thought comfort him as he clung to the branch over his head, his legs dangling for a moment before a wave of exhaustion overwhelmed him.

He let go unthinkingly, dropping like a stone before he hit the ground by the Crown Prince’s side. His suit absorbed most of the force but it still winded him and, for a moment, they simply lay there side by side, both of them breathless and teary-eyed as their heart rates finally returned to normal.

After a moment, Calum pushed himself into a shaky sitting position, wincing at a dull throbbing pain he could feel in his wrist where he’d hit the ground. He tore away the reeds wrapped around Ashton’s ankles as gently as he could, swallowing past the lump rising in his throat when the older boy’s gaze settled on his face. There were bruises marring the skin underneath the reeds and Calum looked up at the Crown Prince unhappily, taking in the way his crimson curls were plastered to his head as he shivered at the freezing water soaking him.

“Thank you,” Ashton croaked, coughing again as he gasped for air. There were tears trickling down his cheeks, carving a path through the mud and blood smeared across his ashen skin, and Calum reached for him unthinkingly, his hands trembling as he cradled the older boy's face gently between his palms.

“Are you okay, angel?” Calum murmured, the pad of his thumb smoothing over Ashton’s uninjured cheekbone soothingly. The older boy shrugged, huffing out a weak laugh that only managed to sound small and frightened as he leant into the contact.

“Thanks to you, curly,” he breathed, his eyelashes spiky with tears as he let their foreheads rest together for a moment of comfort. “Fuck, I really need to learn how to swim.”

“I’ll teach you,” Calum said, giving him a watery smile as a tear slipped down his own cheek. “I promise.”

The cut on the older boy’s cheek looked more painful than Calum had initially realised and he winced at the sight of the claw marks on Ashton’s skin, biting his lip as he glanced over his shoulder for the healers who had been present during the Impedimentum. There was no one in sight today and Calum glared accusingly at the silent forest, the puddles rippling as his anger grew.

“Where the fuck are the healers?” the younger boy snapped, his voice tight with rage and fear as he watched the blood welling sluggishly on the cut marring Ashton’s cheek. “Someone should’ve come to help you!”

“Well, Harry said the stakes were higher this time,” the Crown Prince muttered, shrugging uncertainly as a shiver ran through him. “Maybe this is what he meant.”

Calum smoothed Ashton’s hair back shakily, trying to convince himself that the older boy was alright as his heart clenched painfully in his chest at the prospect of losing him. He couldn’t cope with the fact that Ashton had almost been killed; couldn’t comprehend the awful reality of losing the Crown Prince in any situation at all, let alone such a horrific one before Calum had even had a chance to apologise for upsetting the older boy.

The aching love he felt for Ashton hit him like a lightning bolt and Calum felt like he was going to fall down when the older boy met his eyes, his beautiful face so gentle beneath the mud and the blood. The Prince forced his emotions away, deciding that he couldn't possibly dwell on them now, especially not on a live broadcast in front of the entire planet.

He needed to focus instead. He needed to keep his wits about him so that neither of them ended up getting killed.

“You would've died if I hadn't turned up,” Calum said faintly, frightened by the truth of his words as his bottom lip wobbled. “You’d be dead right now… and it’s just for their entertainment, isn’t it?” He jerked his thumb angrily in the vague direction they’d arrived in, hating every spectator who’d sat and watched this happen. “This is all just to keep everyone from being at each other’s throats.”

“Cal, I’m okay,” Ashton whispered, apparently unsure of what else to say. His hazel eyes were growing damp once more as he drew the younger boy into a tight hug, pressing his lips subtly to the Prince's neck. “You saved me. I _promise_ I’m okay.”

“We need to get out of here,” Calum said softly, clambering to his feet and extending a hand to help the older boy up. He realised too late that it was the wrist he’d injured during the fall but he didn’t care. Calum’s pain had never meant less to him than it did in that moment. He’d saved Ashton and that was all that mattered.

“Did you see that web back there?” the younger boy asked suddenly, his face draining of colour as he remembered the sound of the many-legged creature chasing him through the shadows. When Ashton glanced up at him nervously, his lips parting a little in surprise at the fear on the Prince’s face, Calum couldn’t stop himself from wrapping an arm around the older boy’s waist to keep him close. “There’s a fucking _saeva_ on the loose in here, Ash, so try to stem the blood if you can, okay? You don’t want it scenting you.”

“What’s a saeva?” Ashton asked fearfully, blotting the cut on his cheek frantically with his sleeve as he racked his brains for his biology lessons back at school. Calum sighed, shaking his head grimly.

“Think giant, ten-legged spider with fangs longer than your forearm,” he said unhappily. “That way, you’ll only be a _little_ bit surprised if you’re ever unlucky enough to encounter one.”

Ashton tensed, biting his lip hard as he pressed closer to Calum’s side, clearly frightened.

“Will it try to kill us?” he whispered, his hazel eyes wide with nervousness.

“Maybe,” Calum said honestly. “But saevas don’t like fire… so provided there are no more mortiferns lurking in our vicinity, you should be able to scare it off pretty easily.”

“Okay,” Ashton murmured, letting a curl of bluish-white flame lick across his knuckles as he curled his hand into a fist. “That means it’ll be my turn to keep _you_ safe instead.”

“Let’s just hope it isn’t necessary,” Calum muttered but his words were largely ignored as Ashton stilled beside him, squinting into the shadows. Something was reflecting the firelight back at them and, as the Prince watched in confusion, Ashton’s expression suddenly brightened as he darted closer, taking his warmth with him.

“I’m lucky it was _this_ tree that fell down,” the older boy said, his voice still a little rough from coughing as he approached the trunk. “There was something inside that I was reaching for when that mordere tried to rip my face off.”

“Oh yeah?” Calum asked curiously as he drifted after Ashton, cradling his injured wrist to his chest. “What’s that then?”

“It’s a dagger,” the older boy said with a shrug. “Had this really nasty blade on it – sort of curved I think? I’ve never seen a weapon like it before.”

The words made something uneasy unfurl in Calum’s chest but it wasn’t until he saw Ashton reaching for the dagger – his bare skin a mere _hair's breadth_ away from the gleaming metal – that the Prince realised where he’d seen the weapon before.

“ _DON’T_!” Calum shouted, his heart in his throat as he eyed the older boy in horror. His outburst frightened Ashton so much that he stumbled and almost knocked the blade anyway, and Calum felt like he couldn’t breathe until he’d dragged the older boy to safety, his arms wrapped firmly around the Crown Prince before he dropped him like hot coals, not wanting to give the press anything further to use against them.

“Don’t touch it,” Calum repeated, his tone breathless and pleading as he took in the doubt burning in Ashton’s hazel eyes. “ _Please_ , Ash. Just… just don’t.”

Calum had grown up in terrified awe of the dagger. It was usually locked away securely in a case in his father’s study and there was no way on all of Cerasus that it could have ended up here by accident. The metal was dangerously enchanted – even a single drop of blood drawn from the blade spelt instant death for the unlucky victim – and Calum felt sick that Ashton had almost touched it; couldn’t stand the thought that he’d snatched the older boy from the jaws of death, only to potentially lose him to a scratch the size of a papercut.

“Please, angel,” Calum said softly, his wrist aching worse than ever as he watched the Crown Prince beseechingly, his heart pounding at the way Ashton shot the dagger a curious glance. “Please don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“Are you hiding something else from me?” Ashton asked quietly and, although his tone held no venom, his words still made Calum flinch.

“No, I’m not,” the younger boy snapped, trying to hide his hurt. “If I was, I would’ve let you touch that blade, wouldn’t I?” He sore wrist dangled limply at his side as he bit his lip, trying to calm himself so that he wouldn’t let anything dangerous slip out. “I just… I’ve read about that weapon,” he said eventually, his tone awkward and uncertain. “Even the tiniest cut from it is enough to kill you – I’m not kidding; it literally causes instant death – but sure, I was obviously just telling you for some other nefarious reason.”

Ashton slumped, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably as a sigh escaped him. It seemed that the atmosphere was making _him_ twitchy too and Calum exhaled heavily, trying to let his frustration out. He didn’t want to fight with Ashton, especially not after he’d just got him back again. They didn’t have time for this.

Calum dread to think how much of their hour had been wasted since the challenge had begun and he refused to waste more precious time now.

“I don’t want the dagger, Ash!” he said fiercely, trying desperately to make the older boy believe him. “I’m not lying to you just so I can snatch it up when you’re not looking, okay?” Calum shouldered his way past, snatching the weapon carefully from the hollowed-out trunk before he launched it away by the hilt, sending it hurtling into the undergrowth. “ _Please_ just trust me, angel. We’re both better off without this dagger anywhere near us.”

“ _Okay_ …” Ashton regarded the younger boy with wide hazel eyes, biting his lip a little as he seemed to realise just how serious the Prince was. “Sorry for doubting you.” He shrugged uneasily, grimacing a little at the worrying emptiness of his rucksack. It made Calum think of his own for a moment and all he could feel was gratitude that the liquid fire hadn’t been unleashed when he’d fallen.

“You're kind of hot when you're mad, curly,” Ashton snickered suddenly, apparently keen to break the tension that had fallen as he elbowed the Prince lightly in the ribs. Calum scoffed, rolling his tired eyes fondly.

“Just alert the whole world to us,” he muttered but it was hard to be annoyed when Ashton was watching him like that, with so much gratitude and relief.

“Thank you for keeping me safe, Cal,” the older boy murmured, his expression softening as he noticed how hard the Prince was still breathing. Calum’s lingering anxiety must have been painfully evident because Ashton gave him a long look, his hazel gaze undeniably gentle.

“We’ve used up a lot of our time,” he said hesitantly, kicking at the mud beneath his boots shyly as he ducked his head. “You wanna work together this time, curly?”

Calum smiled, his dimples creasing his cheeks as he gave Ashton’s hand a brief squeeze.

“Yeah,” he said slowly as some of the tension bled from his shoulders, the relief plain on his face. “I'd like that a lot.”

*

Ashton could barely get his rucksack zipped shut by the time their hour was up and Calum's was in much the same state. They’d split every item they found between them, ensuring that neither had more of one sort of weapon or armour than the other. They’d agreed silently that they would draw this challenge, both of them almost defiant as they methodically scoured the drenched forest, sloshing through the floodwater Calum had displaced as they searched for magical artefacts. Luckily, their joint exploration had proved incredibly fruitful.

An illuminated path appeared to guide them safely out of the forest once their time was up and, as the sound of cheering and Harry’s commentary greeted them for a second time, Ashton exchanged a wry smile with Calum, his eyes glittering in the dimness, the blood drying in a dark streak on his cheek.

They were both weighed down with the various items they’d discovered and, as they walked, Ashton ran through them in his head, silently calculating which would prove most useful in the final challenge. Between them, they’d found leather armour, powerful guns that shot both bullets and lasers, wickedly-pointed spears and lances, gleaming rapiers and scimitars, powerful shields and charmed sabatons to increase speed, enchanted necklaces and gauntlets, magical cloaks and throwing knives, crossbows and grenades, and even flasks containing spells – blinding sun to render the victim momentarily sightless, inky darkness to smother the opponent’s senses, and many others that were so obscure Ashton had never heard of them before.

He felt uneasy as he considered just how lethal the contents of their rucksacks were. Ashton had a sword tucked into a sheath encircling his waist now, a gun once more holstered at his thigh as the flasks clinked menacingly in his bag. Beside him, Calum wasn’t much better, carrying a sharp spear over one shoulder as his injured wrist dangled uselessly at his side, his fingernails dirty with mud and blood.

“You okay, angel?” Calum murmured as the pair of them slowly approached the judges. They remained as impassive as they had the first time but Harry seemed jittery beside them, the light-up stars on his suit swirling to mirror his excitement as he looked between the two champions knowingly.

“Mostly,” Ashton said with a weak shrug, hoping the cameras couldn’t pick up what he was saying. “I just… I hate thinking of using _any_ of the things we found today against you. It was bad enough on the Boneflats when it was enemies but… you’re _you_ , Cal. I couldn’t hurt you for anything.”

Ashton fell silent at the sheen of tears in Calum’s eyes, swallowing audibly past the lump in his throat.

“I know I hurt you today anyway,” the Crown Prince breathed suddenly, fisting his eyes fiercely to hide any evidence of tears from the press. “I’m sorry for walking out before the task when you were already upset… and I’m sorry for being suspicious about the dagger. I know you were only trying to keep me safe. I’m… I’m very grateful.”

“I know you are,” Calum said honestly, smiling tiredly as he hefted the spear up higher on his shoulder, the metal gleaming in the light. “It’s kind of why I stick around.”

“Because I’m grateful?” Ashton asked lightly, his tone teasing. Calum grinned.

“And because you’re powerful, funny, beautiful…” He counted them off on his fingers, wincing a little at the ache in his wrist although he didn’t seem to care. “You make me want to do better, angel,” he said quietly, his voice softer now. “You make me want to _be_ better.” He shook his head slowly, apparently in awe. “You make me want to be…”

Ashton leant against Calum subtly as they stopped before the judges, largely tuning out Harry’s commentary although the older man was clearly curious about their relationship and digging for information. Calum simply smiled at their host blandly while Ashton stared down at the grass, more focused on the heat of the Prince beside him than the muttering judges sorting through the various magical artefacts the pair had returned with.

A shocked gasp rippled through the crowd when the judges declared that the two champions had gathered exactly the same number of items and the meaningful look on Harry’s face seemed to multiply tenfold as he deliberately stared between the pair of them. Ashton’s cheeks heated as he sidled awkwardly on the spot and Calum cleared his throat, holding Harry’s gaze as he brushed the back of the Crown Prince’s hand gently with his own.

“So…” Harry drawled into his microphone, his words a little kinder than Ashton had been expecting. “It seems our two champions have been working together, a feat that's previously been unheard of during the Elevare! Anything to say for yourself, boys?”

“I have something to say,” Calum said sharply. “Why were there no healers present? Ashton almost drowned and I’m fairly certain my wrist is broken. We could’ve done with some _help_.” The last word was twisted and bitter, and the Crown Prince’s eyes widened when he noticed the water churning violently inside the judges’ cups.

“Luckily, we survived,” Ashton interjected, his knuckles brushing Calum’s soothingly as he fixed Harry and the judges with a cool stare. “I don’t see why anyone should be unhappy that we worked together. This way, no one will have an unfair advantage during the final task… and, of course, there’s the added bonus of the planet getting to watch a Claritan and a Tenebran joining forces – the very picture of international cooperation. Isn’t that what the Elevare is supposed to be about?”

The crowd broke into murmurs as the judges exchanged uncertain glances and Harry smiled slowly, nodding a little as he conceded the point. Ashton didn’t care in the slightest what the rest of the world thought of him anymore; not when the Prince was standing taller beside him like the words had strengthened him.

Ashton couldn’t turn against Calum if his life depended on it, no matter how much was at stake.

He was so soft for the younger boy that it scared him.

The only saving grace was that he knew the Prince felt the same way about him.

Ashton could see the love shining blazingly in Calum’s beautiful eyes.

It burnt like the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I've love to hear what you thought <3
> 
> And I'm very excited to write the next chapter... _very_ excited... (Sorry in advance.)


	10. Blooming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone!  
> I've been writing this non-stop since I posted the last chapter and I have ALL the emotions!  
> Thank you as always to the lovely Laura for inspiring me - if you're bored, go check out her work! You can find her by searching _maluminspace_ and I promise you won't be disappointed!  
> Hopefully you all enjoy this chapter :)
> 
> Trigger warning for explicit sexual content, mentions of panic attacks, terrorist attacks, and death of minor characters.

**_I lose my voice when I look at you._ **

**_Can't make a noise though I'm trying to_ **

**_Tell you all the right words;_ **

**_Waiting on the right words._ **

_\- Black Butterflies & Déjà Vu, The Maine_

 

Laura looked at herself curiously in the mirror, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip as she smoothed the dress Mali had persuaded her to wear for the party tonight. It had taken ages to put together, the skirt painstakingly patterned with real flower petals in blacks, yellows, and reds. It was possibly a little on the nose and definitely a far cry from her usual style – her parents had both exchanged wide-eyed looks anyway – but Laura was determined to feel proud wearing it.

The dress had been created in very loud support of Ashton who, to this day, was still being nicknamed the Fire Prince for his actions on the Boneflats. Laura dwelled on that as she adjusted the skirt, her fingertips brushing over the petals in their garish shades. The harshness of the colours was softened by the flowers and the fine golden jewellery Mali had crafted for her only helped further, the burnished leaves and vines coiling delicately around her wrists as they gleamed in the light.

Her long fair hair cascaded down her back, brushing the pearly skin where the material had been cut away, only making the dress _more_ striking. It was definitely more to Mali’s tastes than her own and Laura felt her uncertainty growing as she fiddled nervously with a lock of hair, taking in the ruby-coloured flowers she’d twisted into the loose curls Luke had meticulously created for her earlier in the evening.

Maybe she should have gone with something prettier and floatier for the party. Maybe she’d walk in and the press would find something _else_ to criticise her for.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, a soft knock on the bathroom door sounded. Laura blushed as she grabbed the closest thing to her – it happened to be eyeliner – and began to apply some with a little more haste than was probably wise, mostly so it wouldn’t look like she’d simply been standing there staring at her reflection in silence.

“Can I come in?” Michael called through the door and Laura gave a small smile, even as she bit her lip at the unevenness of her makeup.

“Sure, sparky,” she replied distractedly, leaning closer to the mirror as she tried to wipe away a smear of eyeliner. Her hands were still shaking a little from the nerves she’d felt watching the second task a few hours earlier so expecting her makeup to be perfect had probably been unrealistic to begin with.

After watching the horrifying moment when a bleeding Ashton had plunged into the water and not resurfaced, and then to have the stress of Calum potentially burning himself out in an attempt to save the older boy before snapping his wrist – all while the entire thing was being broadcast across the planet – definitely helped Laura put her concerns into perspective.

At least both of the boys were okay now though. Niall and Laura had fixed them up afterwards, and that was all that mattered.

Michael poked his head around the door endearingly, his emerald eyes widening when they settled on her dress. She watched his reaction nervously, visibly relaxing when he grinned at her, his expression approving.

“If I could wolf whistle,” he began seriously. “Now would be the perfect time to do that.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Laura huffed but she couldn’t quite stop herself from laughing as he closed the distance between them, his hands settling lightly on her hips. His blond hair looked softer than ever tonight, flopping down over his pale forehead as he glanced down excitedly at the outfit he’d chosen. The tight blue jeans suited him but Laura was utterly in love with the shirt he was wearing. It was one of the garments they’d picked together on a shopping trip the week before and it made her so happy to watch Michael embracing Claritan culture, wearing pretty clothes even though he’d been raised to think they were unnecessary.

“I like the pattern on your shirt,” she said softly, her fingertips brushing the daisies embroidered across the material. “You want some flowers for your hair too?”

Michael considered it for a moment before a small smile touched his lips.

“Just one please,” he said hesitantly, his expression shy. “Thank you, petal.”

Laura tried to ignore the blush heating her cheeks as she grew him a daisy, tucking it neatly into his soft hair. Michael preened a little and she lowered her gaze, giving him the privacy he deserved to enjoy this. She pressed a kiss to his cheek instead, lingering there and smiling at the contented hum that escaped him as he turned his head, their lips brushing.

“Are you doing glitter again?” he asked, his green eyes sparkling and hopeful. “If you are, can I have some too please?”

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely?” Laura said teasingly, her lips curving into a smile as she reached for the little pot of glitter Luke had left on the sink. “Go sit on the edge of the bath, sparky, okay? Or it’ll go everywhere.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said smartly, ducking when she attempted to bat him lightly round the head. “Hey, don’t mess up my daisy!”

“You know I could just grow you another one, right?” she pointed out, one eyebrow rising. Michael huffed, trying to hide his smirk.

“Well, sure you could… but I like _this_ one, see?” He covered it protectively with his hand, smiling smugly. “It’s my favourite daisy ever. I’m never taking it out.”

Laura’s smile softened as she smeared the first streak of golden glitter over his cheekbone and he fell silent, watching her owlishly. She liked how much he seemed to be enjoying this; liked the confidence he exuded when he wasn’t wearing plain black clothing. It didn’t seem to bother Michael that he wasn’t dressed like everyone else; that he didn’t fit in with Tenebrans _or_ Claritans completely. He didn’t care that Luke was wearing pretty flowing blue robes that looked like the ocean while Ashley would be attending tonight wearing nothing but a simple black suit. Michael had found a style that suited him – functional the way he’d always favoured but pretty enough that his clothes made him stand out in a positive light for once – and Laura loved watching his self-confidence blooming.

“The gold goes well with your dress,” Michael noticed, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the older girl rubbed the pad of her thumb gently over his pale skin, leaving a trail of glitter behind. His cheeks heated suddenly, only managing to highlight the pretty lavender of his eyelids as he leant into her palm for a moment, still avoiding her gaze. “I… I feel really lucky to have you beside me,” he mumbled, embarrassed but sincere. “I think everyone else will realise how lucky I am too… when they see you looking so beautiful tonight.”

His eyes opened in surprise when she ducked down to kiss him but they quickly slid shut, his hands rising clumsily to cradle her cheeks as he sighed into it. The kiss was soft and warm, and Laura felt safer than she ever had as she looked down at him, his eyes sparkling brightly beneath the lights.

He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

His gaze had dropped to her dress again, his expression impressed and curious as he touched one of the flower petals. There was something else shining in his face too and it took her a moment to identify it as pride.

Laura smiled softly, her heart full in her chest as the trembling of her fingers finally ceased.

There was no need to be frightened anymore.

Michael made her feel brave.

*

The Caelum Assembly Building was _almost_ as spectacular as the Lumen Centre. It was situated on a wide avenue opposite a beautifully-tended park and Calum gazed out over the neatly-manicured lawn for a moment, releasing a soft sigh. He could sense the crystal clear water filling the fountains even from here and he tried his best to let it soothe him, cradling his bandaged wrist gently where it was still aching a little after his fall earlier in the day.

He didn’t feel totally comfortable being here tonight, especially when he recalled what had become of the Lumen Centre. The atmosphere was undeniably tense as he they left their transports behind, heading towards the red carpet that had been rolled out to greet them.

Calum’s comm chimed in his pocket and he grimaced, not even bothering to check it. The news bulletins were being updated all the time tonight and had been ever since the Purgatio had posted a threatening video detailing just how angry they were at the result of the second challenge. It seemed that they - like Harry - were also of the opinion that drawing in the Elevare was impossible without the champions actively working together and, naturally, the Purgatio were vehemently opposed to this.

The threats had made Calum feel sick at first but he was doing his best to ignore them now, not wanting to ruin tonight when it was supposed to be about celebration. Ashton looked similarly determined beside him, the claw marks on his cheek still a livid red although the wound had been healed by Niall so there was no risk of infection or further bleeding.

Mali strode along on Calum’s other side, dressed in a burnt orange dress, the chiffon flowing like water around her as the sun began to set behind the Caelum Assembly Building. Her makeup was immaculate, the rose gold of her jewellery gleaming beneath the fiery skies overhead.

Sierra led the way towards the security point, her dark hair swept back into a ponytail and her features arranged into a cautious frown. She’d donned a high-necked black dress that just reached her knees over the tights she was wearing, the long sleeves stretching down over her fists as her boots clicked on the flagstones.

Ashley stuck close behind her charges, dressed in a suit of a similar cut to Calum’s own as her eyes swept over the avenue warily. She remained grimly silent but the dusk was far from quiet. Michael seemed to be doing his best to fill the evening with nervous chatter and Laura’s expression was undeniably fond as she held his arm, her head resting on his shoulder. They both seemed a lot more confident tonight, dressed in unusually bold outfits that weren’t their usual style. Michael especially caught Calum’s eye and he was happy to see his best friend experimenting with fashion in a way he’d clearly longed to do for years.

If nothing else, the Prince was glad the Elevare had gifted Michael the chance to find true happiness. That meant more than Calum could put into words.

Luke and Niall brought up the rear, their fingers tangled together shyly as they followed their friends towards the security point. Luke’s flowing blue robes looked shimmery beneath the sunset, his curls shining as he ran his fingers through them hesitantly. The older man’s suit was a lot more subdued, a simple navy blue with sapphire cufflinks the colour of the younger boy’s eyes. They seemed happy together and Calum offered them a brief smile before his attention was captured by Ashton bumping him lightly in the ribs with his elbow.

“You look so good tonight, curly,” the older boy murmured, hazel eyes twinkling as he took in the emerald velvet suit the Prince was dressed in. “Hope I have the chance to get you out of those clothes later.”

Calum let out a surprised bark of laughter, his chocolate brown eyes crinkling as he pointedly raked his gaze over Ashton’s own outfit, lingering on the ruby-coloured suit and the gemstones decorating his lapels. His tanned skin shone like gold in the sunset, his dimples creasing his beautiful face so perfectly that it took Calum’s breath away for a moment.

“That’s funny,” the younger boy said softly, his lips quirking into a smirk. “I was thinking just the same thing about you.”

The camera flashes began as they waited to pass through the checkpoint and Calum sighed heavily, the anxiety tightening in his chest when he saw the press crowding against the barriers. Ashton hooked their little fingers together subtly, a faint smile growing on his face when Calum visibly relaxed against him although the younger boy couldn’t quite stamp out the concern he felt for the Crown Prince.

The older boy looked so tired in the harsh light of the camera flashes and Calum bit his lip worriedly. It seemed that no amount of glitter or eyeliner would be enough to hide the exhaustion Ashton was fighting, and Calum only hoped he could hold himself together until the end of the Elevare.

It was horrible to see how drained the older boy was now, especially when the Prince realised that Ashton had never really had a chance to recover at all. He’d come back from the Boneflats War in broken pieces and, the very moment he’d scraped himself back together and learnt to walk again, he’d been flung into a dangerous tournament that was only scraping away more of him… and yet, here he was, smiling and holding Calum’s hand, his hazel eyes blazing with life.

Ashton was the strongest person the younger boy had ever met and he felt so proud to have the Crown Prince on his arm like this, regardless of what the press would inevitably say. Calum wasn’t frightened of his growing feelings for Ashton anymore; he hoped he could use them to convince his father to let the older boy survive instead, preferably before any more lives were needlessly lost.

“Took long enough,” Mali muttered when the group were finally allowed through the security checkpoint and into the main corridor of the Caelum Assembly Building. “Guess we’re fashionably late, right?”

“As if you wanted anything else,” Calum pointed out, ducking the weak swipe she sent his way. “You wouldn’t mess my hair up, smiley,” he pointed out, grinning wearily. “You spent long enough fixing it earlier.”

“Well, you made it limp with all that dirty forest water,” Mali said grumpily. “I’m not a miracle worker, peanut. You're lucky it has any volume at all.”

The pair were still squabbling when the group finally entered the main room of the party. Again, Calum was struck by just how similar it was to the Opening Gala in the Lumen Centre and he shivered, reaching automatically to take Ashton’s hand. The Crown Prince levelled him with a fond look as they were guided towards one of the large circular tables edging the dancefloor, the gems on his suit sparkling beneath the chandeliers.

“Tonight is about celebrating, curly,” he reminded Calum softly, his hazel eyes gentle as he drew his chair closer to the younger boy's. “We’ve survived the first half of the tournament and now we get a couple of weeks rest before we fly to Tenebris. This is supposed to be exciting!” Ashton tilted his head to one side curiously, clearly trying to work out the best way to calm the Prince down. “You’re not looking forward to the second half of the Elevare?”

“I’m not looking forward to going _home_ ,” Calum corrected miserably. He accepted a drink passed to him by a waiter with a mumbled thanks and Ashton sighed, biting his bottom lip worriedly.

“Well, let’s find something else to celebrate then,” the older boy suggested warmly. “How about all the friends you’ve made since coming here? Or how well you’ve done during both tasks?” His eyes twinkled suddenly, his lips quirking into a smile just mischievous enough that Calum held his breath. “Of course, there are other ways of celebrating,” Ashton continued innocently as his hand settled on Calum’s thigh beneath the table. “Ways that are a lot more fun than a boring old party…” His voice trailed away suggestively and Calum grinned, downing his drink.

“Do you even have to ask, angel?” he murmured, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Of course I want that.”

It didn’t take them long to locate the restroom and it was blissfully empty when Ashton dragged Calum into the closest cubicle, both of them giggling as they reached for each other. Their lips met and the older boy sighed contentedly, his fingers twisting gently through Calum's hair as the younger boy pressed closer.

The fear and stress of the day bled away when the Prince wrapped his good arm around Ashton’s shoulders, his teeth lightly grazing the older boy’s bottom lip before he deepened the kiss, drawing a soft whine from Ashton. The Crown Prince was panting a little bit, his hands trembling slightly as they slipped inside Calum’s velvet jacket, palms spread warm and possessive over the white dress shirt the younger boy was wearing.

Ashton groaned at the feeling of Calum’s tongue stroking over his own, the warmth in his stomach tightening when the Prince finally let his hips rock forwards to meet Ashton’s. The burn of pleasure left them both gasping and Calum’s head was spinning as he clung to the older boy, the heat between them rising as they lost themselves in each other.

A surprised sound escaped Calum when the older boy’s fingers fell to the button on his trousers, his trembling hands clumsy as he eased them down. Ashton knelt carefully on the tiled floor, stroking the tanned skin of the younger boy’s thighs teasingly as he pressed a kiss to the Prince’s hip. His hazel eyes sparkled when Calum let out a soft moan at the sight of him, his hips jerking when the older boy curled his fingers hesitantly around his cock.

“Look so good on your knees for me, angel,” Calum murmured, his head falling back against the wall when Ashton’s full lips parted around his cock. His red curls were twisted around the younger boy’s fingers, his tongue sliding hotly over the shaft as Calum let out a ragged groan, his knees weakening beneath him at the beautiful sight Ashton made as he hollowed his cheeks, moaning around the younger boy’s cock.

The heat bubbling in the Prince’s stomach grew more urgent when the older boy began to bob his head, his pretty eyes fluttering shut as he worked to get more of Calum’s length into his mouth.

“Ah, _fuck_ ,” the younger boy groaned when Ashton’s tongue slid teasingly over him, his expression undeniably smug even as his lips stretched around Calum's thick cock. The Prince’s hands were shaking when they settled once more in the older boy's hair, his fingers smoothing the crimson curls tenderly as Ashton’s gaze settled on his face, his eyes burning with lust. “Such a good boy for me, angel.”

The Crown Prince hummed contentedly, the vibrations coaxing such a desperate whine from the younger boy that it only encouraged Ashton to draw out more of those beautiful noises as he took him deeper. Calum let loose a sound like he'd been hurt when he felt Ashton's throat fluttering around his cock, losing himself in the wonderful feeling of the older boy’s tongue running over him as the tears began to leak down Ashton’s flushed cheeks.

He was touching himself - it was evident in the tensing of his arm as he fucked clumsily into his fist - and that only brought Calum closer to the edge as he moaned brokenly, biting his knuckle in an effort to stay quiet. Ashton’s throat was so tight around his cock; so hot and perfect and… _fuck_ , when he swallowed around him, that was all it took.

The pleasure saturating Calum’s face as he climaxed was enough to finish Ashton off and he came into his hand with a muffled groan, half-choking around Calum's cock as he shuddered against the younger boy. For a while, the only sound in the cubicle was their panting breaths as Ashton knelt there on the floor, aching a little from the cramped position but too weak from his own orgasm to risk trying to stand just yet.

“Fuck,” Calum breathed, looking slightly stunned as he smoothed his thumb gently under Ashton’s eye, just skirting the edge of the cuts inflicted by the mordere. The older boy shivered, letting his forehead fall to rest on Calum’s hip for a moment as he got his breath back. His eyes were still watering and he thumbed the tears away ruefully, his lips a little swollen as he pressed his smile to the younger boy’s thigh.

“Need a hand, angel?” Calum asked lightly, extending his good arm and grinning crookedly when he helped the Crown Prince up, pressing a soft kiss to Ashton’s lips. The older boy turned away to clean himself up and Calum watched him fondly, his chocolate brown eyes crinkling when Ashton shot him a shy smile over his shoulder, like he _hadn’t_ just been down on his knees with Calum’s cock in his mouth.

“How long do you think we’ve been in here?” the younger boy asked curiously when Ashton turned back to face him, straightening his clothes with a pointed look on his face before Calum took the hint and sheepishly righted his own trousers.

“Not sure,” Ashton replied, blushing at how rough his voice sounded before he let out a breathless laugh. “Must’ve been a while though. The music’s playing properly now. We’re missing the dancing.”

“You care about the dancing?” Calum asked curiously.

“Not really,” Ashton said easily. “I only care about you.” He’d intended the words as a joke but the sincerity slipped into his tone without his permission and the sudden silence showed that he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed it.

“Ash,” Calum said weakly, his lips parting in shock as his trembling hand settled on the older boy’s flushed cheek. “Ash, I -”

The door swung open outside and the sound of soft laughter reached them, shattering the silence that had fallen. Ashton grimaced a little when he heard the sudden unmistakable sound of kissing but the soft moan that sounded sent guilt rippling through him as the couple outside slipped into their own cubicle.

“That’s Luke,” Ashton breathed, looking absolutely mortified by this discovery. He pressed his lips together hard when Calum’s eyes flickered to his face, not looking _unhappy_ exactly but definitely not thrilled either. Clearly he’d had his suspicions about Ashton and Luke’s past, and to have it confirmed now just felt horrendously awkward.

“Let’s go,” Calum murmured, giving Ashton’s shoulder a brief squeeze to show that there were no hard feelings before he unlocked their cubicle as silently as possible. The older boy didn’t move behind him, his face pale now as he bit his bottom lip hard, his hazel eyes growing damp. Calum reached to entwine their fingers securely, his expression vaguely pitying as he towed the Crown Prince quietly out into the hallway.

“Angel?” Calum murmured once the door had swung shut, his brow creasing with concern as the older boy’s shaking fingertips rose to brush over the cuts on his cheek. “Why’re you -?”

“I don’t love Luke anymore,” Ashton said fiercely, his eyes blazing too brightly with unshed tears. “Not like that. I never did.”

“ _What_?” Calum breathed, feeling out of his depth even as his heart began to pound when he remembered his realisation that afternoon in the forest: the lightning bolt as his feelings for the Crown Prince became painfully apparent. “Why… why are you _telling_ me that?”

Even to his own ears, he sounded faintly panicked and Ashton sighed, his shoulders slumping bitterly as a fiery curl tumbled down across his forehead.

“I think you already know,” the older boy said softly but Calum didn’t - _couldn’t_ \- answer.

*

“This is nice,” Michael said softly, his green eyes sparkling as he gazed down at Laura. They were circling slowly together on the edge of the dancefloor, his hands resting on her waist as her arms wrapped warmly around his neck. He dropped a hesitant kiss to her fair hair and Laura blushed as she rested her cheek on his chest, her reaction so sweet that he couldn’t resist holding her closer.

The song changed to a slower one and he hummed contentedly as they swayed together, just basking in the atmosphere as he glanced around to see what had become of his friends. Ashton and Calum were ordering drinks at the bar while Sierra weaved her way over to them, while Mali was tucked away in a corner with Ashley, both of them murmuring together as the Princess let her palm fall to rest on the younger girl’s thigh. Smiling faintly, Michael’s focus returned to Laura, his lips curving up warmly when he saw her upturned face as she watched him.

“You look happy tonight,” she said softly, her tone saturated with affection. “It’s really lovely to see, sparky.”

“Well, I’m with you,” he said easily, grinning when she rolled her eyes fondly. “Plus, there’s no parents here tonight to breathe down our necks. We can let our guards down a little.” He grinned suddenly, crooked and a little sad. “Not that I really have to worry about that.”

“I think we all needed tonight,” Laura said but a touch of concern coloured her expression as her fingertips stroked through the short hairs at the base of his skull. “We don’t have to talk about parents tonight, Mikey. Not if it’ll make you sad.”

“I’m with _you_ , petal,” he repeated, soft and gentle as his eyes twinkled. “I’ve never felt less sad in my life.” Michael couldn’t help the soft burst of laughter that escaped him when she tried to suppress the wide smile threatening to break across her face, so happy that he’d made her look that joyful.

He twirled her playfully and she giggled as she stumbled back into him, clinging to his daisy-patterned shirt as his hands returned to her waist.

“Don’t spin me again!” she pleaded when he grinned mischievously. “Not in these heels. I’ll end up falling over and then you’ll have to carry me dramatically away so I can die of embarrassment in peace.”

Michael’s eyes drifted over her and she shivered, thrilled.

“I can totally pick you up,” he announced, eyes glittering.

“Don’t even think about it!” Laura warned him but she was still laughing and Michael loved watching her face light up; loved the way she looked at him… like he was someone worthwhile almost… like he wasn’t lost.

“I want to tell you about my parents.” The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them but… he kind of didn’t _want_ to. He’d hidden himself away for so long now and he had no wish to hide from Laura too. She made him want to be honest, both with himself and the rest of the world as well.

“Mikey…” Laura bit her lip nervously but she couldn’t quite hide her curiosity and Michael took heart from that. “You… you shouldn’t feel like you _have_ to tell me anything… but if you want to talk about it, I’d love to hear about the people who created someone as wonderful as you. They must’ve been incredible.”

“They were,” Michael said softly, smiling a little. “What I can remember of them anyway.” Laura’s brow creased at the sadness shimmering in his eyes and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, smoothing the frown away. “Do you remember that day out in the gardens before the first task?” he enquired, the words seeming to come out of nowhere. “You asked me about how my magic manifested and… well, I was too scared to tell you then.”

“You said it was a sad story,” Laura said hesitantly, biting her lip. Michael freed it with his thumb, his expression gentle.

“It is… but it has a silver lining too,” he said quietly. “If that night hadn’t happened, I’m not sure my magic ever would’ve manifested itself so strongly… and that was definitely when my friendship with Calum was cemented. I’ll always be grateful for that.”

Michael fell quiet for a moment, his forehead coming to rest on Laura’s shoulder as they circled together, her skirt swirling gracefully around them. One hand rose to smooth through his sandy hair and Michael looked down at her silently, his green eyes damp and loving as she held him a little closer.

“Talk to me,” she suggested softly, her tone gentle and warm when it became clear that he badly needed the confirmation that she truly cared about what he had to say.

“I guess you could say, I was something of a late bloomer,” Michael murmured, smiling sheepishly although the expression faded as he drifted away in her arms, losing himself in the memories for a moment. “My parents never found out what ability I possessed. For a while, I think they thought I had no magic at all.” He shivered and Laura stroked his arm soothingly, holding him closer when his breath escaped him in a shaky sigh. “My parents were famous politicians - Karen and Daryl Clifford. They were all about trying to encourage relations between Tenebris and Claritas; about trade deals and improving immigration policies and... well, I guess a lot of people didn't like that. They were assassinated when I was five years old, on the drive back from an event. There was a bomb in their transport and -” He broke off, the colour draining from his face although he calmed a little when Laura’s palms slipped to cradle his cheeks, her eyes damp with tears as she held his gaze, unflinching despite the force of his pain.

There was something about it that made him feel stronger and he inhaled shakily when their foreheads came to rest together, his eyelashes spiky with tears as she wrapped an arm around his waist, still cupping one cheek comfortingly.

“The night they died, I’d been staying at the citadel with Cal and… and when they told me, I just lost it. I couldn’t process what they were saying and… and I remember feeling like I was gonna burst, right? Like there was something huge under my skin that felt like it was going to explode… and then… well, it _did_.”

Laura had gone very pale as she looked up at him, her expression saturated with concern and affection as he searched her face for the strength he needed to carry on… to finally let go of all the pain he’d been holding in for most of his life.

“I’ve never created a storm like it since. I’m not even sure I could now but… there was so much raw emotion that… fuck, I almost tore the _room_ apart.” Michael shook his head dazedly, his emerald eyes far away as he watched the scene playing out in front of him. “There was so much lightning and thunder, and everyone was too scared to come near me but… but Cal was recklessly brave, even back then.”

Michael closed his eyes, remembering the overwhelming relief he’d felt when the little boy had crawled over to him, his cheeks splattered with rain and reddened with wind as the storm clawed at his exposed cheeks. Calum hadn’t cared though; he’d just pushed through it and curled up beside Michael on the carpet, thumbing the orphan’s tears away and cuddling him tightly until the storm passed.

Joy and David had found the little boys lying together once the lightning had burnt itself out, Michael’s swollen eyes gritty with tears as Calum held him, his tiny arms wrapped securely around the older boy’s waist, his soft face tucked away into his best friend’s neck.

“I think Cal saved my life that night,” Michael whispered, unaware that the tears had escaped him until Laura brushed them away gently with shaking fingertips. “I’ll owe him forever for that.”

“You don’t owe him at all,” she said gently. “He did it because he _loves_ you, Mikey. I don’t know Cal very well and even I can see that. He’d never want you to feel like you owed him. He just wants you to be happy.”

Michael turned his head, pressing a kiss to her palm as her words sent something calm unfurling inside him.

“I didn’t wanna talk about my mum and dad the next day,” he continued softly. “Cal took me out into the gardens instead and… and I tried to use my magic again. He helped me; made me feel like it could be something fun and exciting… and not the product of losing mum and dad.”

The kindness in her eyes was making a lump rise in his throat and Michael had to look away, focusing instead on the flowers decorating her skirt and the polished wooden floor beneath their feet. If he stopped talking now, he was sure he’d never feel strong enough to say this again. It was now or never.

“I remember… I remember how strange it felt to finally have magic because… well, I’d always thought I didn’t have any,” he said faintly, his eyes fluttering shut. “Everyone else my age had been practising honing their abilities and I’d always been stuck on the side-lines, thinking I had no powers at all… and then to realise I was _that_ powerful…” There was no pride in his voice - only shock and something that sounded like bone-deep exhaustion. “It never felt like enough though,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I used to think every night that… that even if I _was_ that powerful… well, it didn’t mean anything. My parents had still left me.”

“Mikey, that wasn’t your fault,” Laura said tearfully, looking very much like her heart was crumbling in her chest as she reached to tangle their fingers together tightly. Michael’s lips parted at the display of solidarity because, for the first time after hearing those words said on hundreds of occasions, he was finally starting to believe them.

She was still holding him, not even swaying to the music anymore as the other guests parted around them like waves against a rock. They were steadfast together, and Michael felt calm and steady in her arms.

She was his safe harbour.

“You’re not leaving,” he realised, his tone nothing short of stunned. “You know everything about my shitty past and… you’re still here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Laura promised, giving him a watery smile as she gazed up at him, her apparent nerves fighting with the fondness in her eyes. “I’m kind of a little bit in love with you, sparky.”

“Only _kind of_?” Michael teased, even as a tear slipped down his flushed cheek. Laura huffed, laughing softly as she stretched up to brush a kiss to his jaw, uncaring of the dancers around them.

“What colour are your sparks now?” she whispered, her voice soft and choked with tears.

Michael twirled his fingers silently, still looking stunned. Golden sparks spilt out onto the wooden floor and he gazed down at them in shock, his jaw slackening as she stared in awe.

“What does gold mean?” she murmured, looking so beautiful under the lights that he could barely breathe.

“I’m not sure,” he breathed, his hands trembling. “But I think it might be love.”

When he gently tilted her head up and kissed her on the lips - right there in front of all the cameras and the other guests - Michael had never been less scared in his life.

No one had ever been able to make him feel like that before.

He thought Laura might be magic.

*

Ashton just wanted to go home.

It had been a very draining day - both physically and emotionally - and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide from the world. He wasn't sure what hurt most: his ego after the entire planet had almost watched him drown, the livid cuts on his face that even Niall hadn't been able to heal completely, or the fact that his almost-confession to Calum had been received with so much apparent terror.

Although none of them had been pleasant, Ashton thought it might be the last option that stung most.

He knew Calum felt guilty too and maybe that was the worst part. He kept catching the younger boy watching him sadly whenever he thought Ashton was distracted, his chocolate brown eyes a little damp, his lips parting silently around whatever words he was too afraid to say.

By the time they were leaving the party, all of them exhausted and some more than a little tipsy, Ashton was desperate to break the tension that had fallen. A number of the other guests were leaving too and the Crown Prince's gaze roved over them, searching for someone to strike up a conversation with.

When his eyes alighted on none other than Harry Styles ambling along nearby, the wave of relief he felt shocked him. The older man was dressed in a purple silk suit paired with a sunshine yellow shirt that should have looked garish but somehow managed to appear striking instead.

“Evening, Harry,” Ashton called in a tone of forced cheer, bristling when Calum shot him a wary glance from where he was wandering along beside him. “Did you enjoy the party tonight?”

“Hello, boys,” Harry grinned, either unaware of the tension between the champions or unbothered by it. “It's definitely been a good night - although you two are looking a little worse for wear. This tournament is really doing a number on you, huh?”

“You could say that,” Calum muttered darkly, cradling his sore wrist with a weak scowl on his tired face. Harry shot him a sympathetic look and Ashton sighed, biting his lip as his hand twitched awkwardly, unsure whether to try and comfort the Prince or not. Quite honestly, he wasn't certain Calum would appreciate it tonight and it felt like giving up when his arm remained hanging limply at his side.

“I hope there's no hard feelings about today's task,” Harry said suddenly, his brow creasing a little. They were already halfway down the corridor, the night air slipping in to cool their skin as they approached the security checkpoint, and he seemed keen to get his point across before they parted ways. “We wouldn't actually have let either of you die - our sponsors just wanted us to up the stakes and the drama was great for the broadcast.”

Calum turned away, his lips pressed together flatly as his good hand curled into a fist. He couldn't put into words how angry he felt hearing those words - hearing their terror and pain downplayed because it made for good ratings - and he knew Ashton felt the same when he caught sight of the forced smile fading on the older boy's sore face.

“I did mean to ask you both something though,” Harry added in a quieter voice, leaning a little closer to them. “You really didn't see _any_ healers on the arena floor? Not one?” The Crown Prince shook his head and Harry bit his lip, looking uneasy. “That doesn't sound safe.”

“Maybe someone scared them away,” Ashton muttered, trying for a weak joke. Harry laughed quietly but he still looked uncomfortable and Calum just felt faintly nauseous because, as he processed those words, he remembered his conversation with David before the task and... fuck, maybe this was what his father had meant: that while Calum would no longer be required to murder the Crown Prince, the older boy's death was still the King's goal.

Calum felt sicker than ever as he processed that, his stomach clenching unpleasantly as he considered the implications. Having no healers around had not only threatened Ashton's life but Calum's too and, if David was truly prepared to endanger his own son in his efforts for revenge, who was to say he wouldn't try again? That he wouldn't do something _worse_ next time?

Calum needed to look into this; needed to speak to a healer who should have been present at the arena today but... damnit, it was too difficult without attracting unwanted attention. Even more frustratingly, Niall hadn't been on duty today so the Prince couldn't ask him if he'd received any threats or noticed anything untoward. He was at a loss before he'd even begun.

“There were mortiferns in the forest too,” Calum added, just to smother Harry's nervous laughter at Ashton's weak joke. “Just while we're talking about things that are unsafe.”

“ _Mortiferns_?” Harry demanded, his expression stunned. “No way! The arena was absolutely crackling with magic today - no one would have signed that off!”

“Well, someone clearly did,” Ashton pointed out. “I saw one too.” His hazel eyes widened suddenly as he exchanged a frightened glance with Calum, shivering. “Harry, are you saying that someone is tampering with the tournament?”

“I couldn't say for sure,” the older man said hesitantly, his expression souring with unhappiness. “But I think it would certainly be worth looking into.”

They stepped out into the night and Ashton wrapped his suit jacket a little tighter around him, the hairs on the back of his neck rising at the intense worry colouring Harry's expression. Calum looked pale beside him, his complexion ashen as the darkness pressed down on them.

Sierra was walking a few feet in front of them, looking just as tense as she'd done on the walk towards the Caelum Assembly Building earlier in the evening. Her focused expression was mirrored on Ashley's face as she guided Mali out into the shadows with a hand resting on her elbow, her lip drawn between her teeth.

“Do _you_ think someone's been meddling with the competition, Cal?” Ashton asked softly, his voice low enough that Harry couldn't hear them. Calum shrugged uncomfortably, still pale and nervous-looking as his fingertips fell automatically to his thigh. Michael and Laura were laughing at something behind them, the sound much too happy for the anxiety twisting itself tightly around Ashton's lungs.

“Angel,” Calum said weakly, his frightened eyes welling with tears. “Angel, I have to tell you something.”

The younger boy was cast in shadow by the number of transports lining the avenue and Ashton peered at him through the darkness, his heart rising into his throat at the hint of guilt rippling across the Prince's face.

“Cal?” he asked uncertainly, his voice small and scared. “Cal, what do you know?”

Out of nowhere, a bullet slammed into the wall inches from Ashton’s head, the bang ringing in the sudden shocked silence as he processed what had happened in disbelief. His hazel eyes settled automatically on Calum - on his panting breaths and terrified eyes, and the way he was reaching automatically for the older boy as his panic consumed him - and then one of the transports nearby exploded in a roar of amber flame and the world erupted into chaos.

The force of the explosion sent lethal shards of metal and chunks of brickwork flying in all directions. In that moment, it was a good thing that a number of their group had been sent to the Boneflats because it meant that reacting to an ambush was instinctive.

Ashton flung his hand out automatically, twisting the scorching flames into a plume that seared the night sky instead of their flesh. His eyes widened as the acrid scent of the smoke caught in the back of his throat and he couldn’t keep himself from coughing when Ashley clenched her fist, sending the flying bricks to little more than dust.

“Mali!” Ashton shouted, his voice cracking as he fought to keep from choking, his fingertips alight with blue flame. She looked up at him in horror for a moment before she snapped out of it, her hands rising shakily to keep the largest shards of metal from tearing them apart. The transport was a smoking wreck, the flames licking at the torn upholstery as Ashton backed up against the wall, keeping Calum sheltered safely behind him.

Sierra stepped protectively in front of the Crown Prince, her fingertips white with ice as she glared through the smoke. She flinched when a sudden volley of bullets ripped through the air, shoving Ashton bodily over the broken wall behind them as he dragged Calum with him, the younger boy so paralysed with fear that he simply let himself be hauled over too, crying out weakly as they hit the ground.

Laura’s expression was more grim than afraid as she held Ashton’s gaze for a moment, wiping blood from her split lip uncaringly with the back of her hand. Michael was crouched behind her, his emerald eyes wide with horror as the sparks crackled from his fingertips, reddish-violet with fear and stress.

Mali and Ashley were still on the other side of the wall. The Princess had torn the metal doors from some of the surviving transports and was using her abilities to manipulate them into a hasty barricade which would hopefully be enough to hold off their enemies until help arrived. The bullets were still flying thick and fast though and, when another nearby vehicle erupted into a choking cloud of fire and smoke, it quickly became clear that it wouldn’t be enough.

“Fuck this,” Laura hissed, raising her head warily over the wall before she threw a hand out, fingers splayed. The trees on the other side of the avenue uprooted themselves with deafening creaks, crashing down onto the shooters hidden in the parkland with sickening cracking sounds as she bought them more time. She looked horrified with herself - after all, she was a healer and harming others would never sit well with her - but Ashton reached for her hand blindly through the smoke, squeezing it comfortingly.

The guards were beginning to stream outside now and, although the frequency of the bullets flying had definitely lessened, the surviving shooters proved deadly proficient. Ashton felt sick as he watched them being torn down and the nightmarish sound of them dying wrenched him straight back to the Boneflats.

The only thing keeping him grounded at all was the Prince’s trembling body hidden beneath his own. Calum was shaking almost violently, his dark eyes squeezed tightly shut as the tears boiled down his cheeks, cutting through the dust and blood. There was a shallow graze above his eyebrow which seemed to be his worst injury, at least until Ashton looked down and saw what had become of his already-damaged wrist. It was bent sickeningly and the older boy’s stomach clenched with nausea when he realised that must have been his doing when he’d dragged the Prince to safety over the wall.

Ashton cradled his cheeks gently, horrified at the state the younger boy had got himself into while the Crown Prince had been trying to keep the flames back. Calum’s eyes were rolling like he was about to pass out, his breathless pants rasping out of him as he clung to the older boy, more terrified than Ashton had ever seen before.

Nearby, Michael didn’t look much better and the Crown Prince couldn’t blame either of them. He knew they’d never been exposed to a situation like this before but, while Mali seemed to have taken to defending her friends and family with a shocking intensity, the two younger boys were sitting ducks as the carnage left them frozen with fear.

The screeching sound of protesting metal shattered the quiet as Mali gathered every scrap she could find, building on the barricade she was assembling in an effort to stop the bullets. She was clearly hoping that her friends would be able to make a break for the relative safety of the Caelum Assembly Building but, before Ashton had had time to consider the logistics of this, a sudden cry of horror filled the night.

The sound had come from the Princess. Mali’s expression was dismayed, her dark eyes wide with fear and overflowing with tears as the bullet slammed into Ashley’s shoulder, sending out a fountain of blood. The younger girl spun with the force of it, flung to the ground like a ragdoll as the metal Mali had been holding clattered to the ground with a deafening crash, leaving them all unprotected.

Michael cried out in horror as Mali threw herself down beside Ashley, her hands growing slippery with the younger girl’s blood as a sob tore out of her. The Princess wasn’t even thinking about the shooters hidden behind the fallen trees now; not when the girl she loved was bleeding out in front of her.

Sierra cursed as she clambered over the wall in her torn dress, launching herself past the girls on the ground as she threw her palm out, sending a slick blanket of ice through the parkland to keep their enemies from attempting to cross the space between them. With barely a moment of hesitation, Ashton went after her.

“Watch Calum,” he pleaded to Laura as he hauled himself over the ruined brickwork too, throwing himself down onto the tarmac immediately to avoid a bullet.

“Ash, _no_!” Laura cried as he tore off after his bodyguard, the words bringing him right back to the Boneflats for a moment, reminding him painfully of the day when he’d almost burnt his magic to nothing and had taken a sickening number of lives… but Ashton wouldn’t lose anyone else today. He was determined to avoid that.

This close, he could see the figures moving in the trees, some of them backing away at the sight of the Crown Prince closing the distance between them. He threw his hand out, sending fire snaking around them in an ever-decreasing loop as he hemmed them in, keeping them from escaping while Sierra worked her magic.

She was breathing hard beside him, her eyes burning with fury as her palm flew out again and again, freezing them where they stood. Their bodies hit the ground with jarring thumps, only their heads and shoulders free of the ice as they struggled in vain.

Ashton let the fire burn away to nothing with a click of his fingers, his nose dripping blood as he let out a shaky sigh. Sierra leant against him for a moment, her eyes still flickering around nervously although she seemed a little less tense now. She was sure a few of their enemies had escaped but, for the most part, they’d done well catching this many surviving shooters, especially when it seemed likely that they were members of the Purgatio.

“Not bad, Your Illustriousness,” Sierra said breathlessly, managing a weak smile that Ashton shakily returned.

“Could say the same to you, Fearless Protector,” he murmured, relaxing visibly when the sirens of the Claritan Constabulary rose above the cries of pain and fear. This situation would be in their hands soon and, as the Crown Prince processed that, Sierra patted his arm gently, getting his attention.

“Go back to the others,” she said softly, her eyes remaining fixed on her prisoners. “They need you.”

There were bodies littering the ground as Ashton made his way shakily back across the avenue, his red curls limp with sweat, the blood on his face drying in streaks. He checked every fallen guard he passed but none of them were breathing and he kind of hated himself for the relief he felt when none of them proved to be anyone he recognised.

“Luke?” Laura’s voice shattered the quiet and Ashton’s heart stopped beating in his chest when he heard her panic. “Has anyone seen Luke?” Her breath hitched, her words coming out choked as she let out a sob. “ _Luke_!” Ashton almost fell in his haste to reach her, his arms opening automatically as she threw herself against his chest. “I can’t find him,” she wept, her trembling hands fisting tightly in the back of his jacket as he smoothed her hair comfortingly. “He’s gone, Ash. Where _is_ he?”

“I’ve checked all the bodies, Laura, and he’s not there,” Ashton whispered, afraid his voice would break if he spoke any louder. “He’ll be with Niall somewhere, yeah? Niall will have kept him safe.” He drew back for a moment, resting one palm on her cheek as she drew in a ragged breath, her eyelashes spiky with tears. “Laura, Niall isn’t here right now and Ashley’s bleeding. She needs your help.”

“I can’t. I’m not good enough,” Laura breathed, her face paling as she stared up at him fearfully. “I haven’t finished my training. I’m not -”

“You’re incredible,” Ashton interrupted, his tone soft but firm. “I watched you heal a hundred people a day on the Boneflats and their injuries were a _lot_ worse than this… but if you don’t help her now, she’ll bleed out. You have to hurry.”

“Right,” she whispered, tucking her hair behind her ears shakily as he gave her a gentle nudge towards the fallen girl. “I can do this.” She knelt down on the tarmac beside Mali, her hands trembling as she pushed Ashley’s jacket aside, reaching closer to cover the wound with her palms. The healing would be nothing pretty - battle magic never was - but it would hopefully buy the bodyguard enough time before a more experienced healer showed up… before they found _Niall_ , wherever he was.

Ashton’s growing worry was interrupted by Harry emerging from behind the low wall with a torn suit and a bloody gash on his palm. He seemed a lot calmer than the Crown Prince had been expecting - maybe Harry had served in the army too - and, when the commentator asked if there was anything he could do to help Laura, Ashton turned away, content that Ashley would be well looked after.

“Ash?” The voice was soft and frightened, and the Crown Prince turned to it automatically, his heart clenching when he saw Michael’s ashen face as he peered warily over the wall. “Ash, I don’t know what to do.”

“What is it, Mike?” the older boy asked softly, trying to appear calmer than he felt when he saw the anxiety burning in the younger boy’s frightened eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Calum,” Michael choked out, his eyes damp with tears as he glanced down anxiously at something out of sight. “He can’t breathe.”

Ashton vaulted the wall so fast he felt dizzy, his breath catching in his throat at the state of the Prince. He was curled on his side, his broken wrist cradled to his heaving chest as he panted shallowly, his dirty cheeks wet with tears. The realisation of what was happening hit Ashton like the transport exploding all over again and he felt sick as he combed Calum’s dark hair back gently, hating the way the younger boy flinched, only curling up tighter.

“Has he ever had a panic attack before?” the Crown Prince asked quietly, his eyes welling with tears.

“I… I don’t think so,” Michael murmured, looking shell-shocked. “Ash, I don’t -”

“I’ve got this, Mike,” the older boy said softly, his tone reassuring. “Go and see if Laura’s okay for me, yeah? She needs you.”

“Okay,” Michael breathed, sniffling as he brushed a tear away, rising shakily. “Okay, Ash.”

Once the younger boy had gone, Ashton eased himself down onto the ground beside Calum, his heart aching at the panicked sobs tearing out of the Prince. He cowered when the Claritan Constabulary's transports finally arrived, the sound of the sirens only managing to frighten him more as he tucked his face out of sight.

“Hey, curly,” Ashton murmured, leaning closer through the dust although he was careful not to touch the younger boy again, not wanting to scare him. The only response he received was a frightened whimper and Ashton’s concern grew. “Cal, can you look at me? I need you to look at me.”

It seemed to take Calum an age to raise his head but he managed it, his face flushed, his lips bitten bloody. There was dust in his hair and the graze about his eyebrow was still welling blood but Ashton was more worried about his wrist. There was no time to focus on either injury though; not when the younger boy’s breaths were coming so shallowly that he was barely scraping in any oxygen at all.

“Hey, beautiful,” Ashton whispered, his voice as soft and soothing as he could make it, his heart breaking in his chest. “It’s over now, curly. I _promise_ it’s over. You’re safe.”

A sob tore out of the younger boy, the sound weak and cracking as he coughed on the dust, still lying slumped on his side.

“Dying,” Calum croaked, his eyes sliding shut as he clawed in another desperate panting breath. A tear slipped down Ashton’s cheek at the sight but he fought against the pain rising inside him, more focused on saving the Prince from further distress.

“You’re not dying, curly,” he said gently, his hazel eyes soft when Calum shot him an anguished glance. “You’re having a panic attack but you’ll be fine. It’ll pass soon, I promise.”

“ _Ash_ …” The Prince’s voice trailed away, his hands trembling badly as he reached for the older boy. Ashton shifted closer at once, carding his fingers lightly through the younger boy’s curls and relaxing visibly when Calum calmed a little at the gentle touch.

“How can I help, curly?” Ashton murmured, his thumb rubbing gently through the dust covering the younger boy's soft cheek. “What do you need?”

“You,” Calum gasped raggedly, the shame on his face painful to look at as he gazed up at the older boy pleadingly.

“That’s okay, Cal,” Ashton breathed, choked up as a lump rose in his throat. “Can I hold you? Would that help?”

“Please,” Calum begged, breathless and vulnerable. “ _Please_ , Ash.”

“C’mere, curly,” Ashton said softly, opening his arms for the younger boy to curl up in his lap. He wrapped an arm securely around Calum’s waist, dropping a kiss onto the matted curls as he held the Prince closer, being mindful of his wrist. Calum curled his good hand in the front of Ashton’s suit, anchoring them together as he tucked his tear-streaked face away into the safety of the older boy’s neck. He was still sobbing, the sounds weaker and coloured with exhaustion now, and they only encouraged Ashton to hold him closer.

Slowly, Calum calmed. His breaths came a little easier, the tremors tearing through him slowing with every soothing stroke of Ashton's palm smoothing over his spine. His dark hair was sticking to his forehead, his eyelashes spiky with tears as he reached for the older boy, only to pale visibly when the agony in his wrist made itself apparent once more.

“Hurts,” Calum choked out, his face crumpling at the agony he could feel. Ashton bit his lip unhappily, his hazel eyes flickering towards the chaos of the avenue as he searched for help. The blast had damaged enough of the wall that he could easily see the others and he felt shocked that the few remaining layers of bricks had been enough to provide them with any cover at all.

From his vantage point, he could see Laura rising shakily from where she’d been kneeling on the tarmac, her dress in tatters. Her hands were streaked with blood but Ashley – despite being white with pain – was no longer bleeding out and the relief crashed over the Crown Prince like a wave as he watched Mali stroking her hair lovingly. Even despite her anxiety, Laura had done enough to save Ashley and the pride Ashton felt was mirrored on Michael’s face as he drew her into a tight hug, stroking her hair as she leant against him, her eyes falling shut in exhaustion.

She was still crying and Ashton’s heart ached because he knew exactly how she felt. Not knowing what had become of Luke and Niall was horrible, especially with so many bodies lying broken across the avenue, but he had to hope that the two had found somewhere safe to hide; that they’d avoided the explosions and the shooters, and everyone else who constantly seemed to wish Ashton and his loved ones harm.

“Hey, give them some space!” Harry’s shout cut through the clamour of the Claritan Constabulary dragging members of the Purgatio into their transports and Ashton jerked in surprise, instantly hating himself when the movement jarred Calum’s broken wrist and tore a pained whimper from him.

Harry’s shoulders were squared as he stormed across the tarmac, sending a gathering crowd of journalists and photographers scattering. It occurred to Ashton suddenly that he didn’t know what Harry’s abilities were but, judging by the way the reporters were almost falling over themselves in an effort to move further down the road, it was undoubtedly something impressive.

The cameras were still flashing though and Ashton could see the tell-tale red lights that meant some of them were recording, probably broadcasting this live to the comms channels right now. Ashton turned away in disgust, focusing on the younger boy still cringing with pain in his arms instead. Quite honestly, he had more important things to worry about: namely, finding someone to heal Calum.

Michael met the Crown Prince's gaze over Laura's shoulder and answered his wordless plea for help with a grim nod. He ducked his head as he murmured to the girl in his arms and she looked over at once, her expression chagrined when she saw the pain lining Calum’s face where he’d tucked his head under Ashton’s chin.

Laura hurried over, sniffing hard to keep from crying when Michael took her hand, uncaring of her blood-stained fingers. She clambered over the wall in her torn dress, her expression softening as she knelt down in the dust in front of them, relaxing a little when Michael’s palm came to settle warmly on her bare shoulder.

“Got yourself into a scrap, have you, Cal?” she murmured, giving him a watery smile. “Need me to fix you up?”

“Hey, Laura,” Calum breathed, limp now as his head lolled onto Ashton's shoulder, like his exhaustion was more pressing than the pain. “My wrist hurts.”

“Yeah, I can see that, sweetheart,” she said softly, her movements gentle as she carefully rolled his sleeve back to expose the blackish bruising underneath. She hissed in a breath, shooting him a sympathetic look when he winced at the feeling of her fingertips lightly probing the broken bone. “Good news is I can fix this pretty easily,” she announced, biting her lip nervously. “Bad news is… well, it’s gonna hurt like hell.”

“Already does,” Calum groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against fresh tears. “Can’t get much worse.”

Laura pursed her lips, looking as though she didn’t entirely agree with this, but she was kind enough not to correct him.

“Hold his arm steady please, Ash,” she said quietly, watching to make sure Ashton angled the Prince’s arm the way she wanted before she turned to Michael, her expression rapidly growing guilty. “I… I’m gonna need you to straighten his wrist, Mikey,” she said apologetically. “Just while I repair the fracture. Otherwise it won’t heal right.”

Michael shot her a fearful look before his gaze flickered to his best friend’s face, taking in the tear tracks and the graze still dripping blood on Calum’s forehead.

“But… but that’ll _hurt_ him,” Michael stammered, his emerald eyes wide. Laura hung her head, staring down unhappily at Ashley’s blood where it had dried on her hands.

“Yeah, I know,” she said heavily, unable to hide her misery. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, petal,” Michael said quietly, his jaw squaring with determination. “You’re doing this to help Cal. I’m very grateful.” He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping when Calum managed a watery smile, so weak in Ashton’s arms that he seemed to have no fight left at all. “You ready, Princess?” Michael asked softly.

“As I’ll ever be,” Calum breathed, his hand hanging limply in Ashton’s gentle grip as he held his best friend’s gaze. “Get on with it, Clifford,” he said, gritting his teeth in preparation for the pain. “I’m not made of glass.”

Calum screamed when Michael straightened his wrist, thrashing in Ashton’s hold as Laura's fingertips returned to his bruised skin, her tear-filled eyes narrowing as she concentrated. The agony must have faded quickly because the tortured sounds tearing out of Calum’s throat subsided into choked sobs as he went limp in the Crown Prince’s arms, his reddened eyes sliding shut as the weariness overwhelmed him.

Mali almost fell in her haste to reach them, alerted to the fact that her brother had been injured by the heart-wrenching sound of his cries. She stumbled to a halt, her expression confused but relieved when she realised that he didn’t seem to be in life-threatening danger.

“Cal?” Mali asked quietly, her voice tight with fear when he barely had the energy to raise his head. “Peanut, what happened?”

“Snapped the bone in his wrist,” Laura said grimly, her pale face pinched with exhaustion as she sighed heavily, her hair messy where she’d been tangling her fingers in it. “He’s all healed up now.”

“Thank you,” Mali said shakily, her eyes damp with tears as she reached to stroke Calum’s cheek with trembling fingers. He leant into the touch, a soft sigh escaping him as Ashton dropped a kiss to his curls, rocking him gently.

“How’s Ashley?” Calum asked, his voice little more than a breath as he pressed his face to the comforting warmth of Ashton’s neck. Mali’s breath escaped her in a relieved sigh.

“She’s doing much better, thanks to Laura,” the Princess said quietly, her tone nothing but grateful. “It seems I have her to thank for a lot of things tonight.”

“Laura’s great,” Calum mumbled, so tired he could barely keep his eyes open now. “Mikey could do worse.”

“Stunning praise,” Laura muttered, smiling weakly as she smoothed her thumb lightly over the torn skin on his forehead, stemming the flow of blood. Sudden movement in the doorway to the Caelum Assembling Building caught her eye and, looking up, her expression quickly became stunned as she lurched upright, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

The security point was in shambles now, the metal detector lying fallen on its side as the area was cleared to make room for medical supplies, and stumbling through the organised chaos were two painfully-familiar faces. Luke’s robes were torn, his blue eyes wide with panic as he searched the crowd frantically, Niall’s shaking hand gripped tightly in his own. They were both covered in dust from the explosion but, aside from appearing badly shaken up, they seemed unharmed.

“Laura?” Luke called desperately, his eyes wild as he scanned the passers-by anxiously for his sister. “ _Laura_!”

“Luke!” she cried, waving to get his attention as she scrambled back over the wall with Michael’s help. Her brother closed the distance between them in seconds, a relieved sob escaping him as he strode close enough to sweep her into the safety of his arms.

“Where _were_ you, lofty?!” she demanded tearfully, her bloodied fingers twisting in the back of his robes to keep him close. “I was so worried!”

“I… I was in the bathroom,” he blurted out, looking suddenly awkward as Niall appeared beside him, his eyes already scanning their surroundings to see if there was anyone who still needed healing. “Um… all evening…”

Laura stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before her nostrils flared, her eyes brightening with anger and – possibly against the odds – humour, probably a product of her dizzying relief.

“Do you seriously mean to tell me that you two were making out in the bathroom this whole time?!” She slapped Luke weakly on the chest and, after a moment of consideration, gave Niall the same treatment. He accepted it stoically, his expression sheepish although he reached for Luke’s hand unashamedly. “I thought you were both dead!”

Laura didn’t seem to realise she was crying again until Luke drew her back against his chest, pressing a kiss to her long hair as Niall squeezed her shoulder soothingly.

“We’re both fine, tiny,” Luke said softly, his own eyes damp with tears as he hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry you were frightened.” He paled suddenly, biting his lip. “You weren’t hurt, were you? Everyone’s safe?”

“We’re fine now,” she whispered, the shaking of her hands surprising her although she supposed it shouldn’t have. She'd been practical earlier when the situation had called for it but, now that they were out of the woods, the shock was creeping up on her slowly. “Ashley got shot but… she’s okay. I managed to save her… and Calum’s wrist broke again but I managed to heal him too.”

She swayed suddenly, utterly exhausted after the energy she'd used healing people, and when Michael appeared to slip an arm warmly around her waist, she’d never been more grateful for anything, with the exception of her brother standing healthy and safe in front of her.

“Everyone okay?” Sierra called as she approached them, looking absolutely bone-tired now that her adrenaline had bled away. Laura nodded wearily and Sierra relaxed, patting the fair-haired girl’s arm as she glanced at Luke and Niall, taking in how shaken the pair looked. “We need to move back,” she warned them, raising her voice a little when Harry looked over curiously too, his face pale and streaked with dust. “One of the Constabulary’s officers said there’s something suspicious strapped under one of the transports. They’re going to blow it up I think. They want people as close to the Assembly Building as possible.”

“You got it,” Laura said softly, keeping one hand resting over Michael’s on her waist although she reached for her little brother too, drawing him closer to her. “Let’s go make sure Ash and Calum know what’s going on.” She frowned suddenly, biting her lip. “Did anyone see where Mali and Ashley went?”

“They’re checking Ashley over inside I think,” Michael said quietly, still trembling a little although he seemed a little calmer now that his friends were no longer panicking. “C’mon, petal,” he murmured, brushing a kiss over Laura’s dishevelled hair. “Let’s get you somewhere safer.”

Harry walked with them, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as the chill of the night pressed in. The concern on his face soured into something colder when the press were shunted down the avenue towards them and, although he seemed to understand the reason for these safety precautions, it didn’t make him any happier that the reporters would now have the perfect view of the champions and their friends.

Their frightened, blood-stained faces would be plastered across the comms channels by tomorrow morning, and Harry’s anger made him square his shoulders as he stepped purposefully between the press and the champions, trying to buy them a little privacy.

Ashton watched all of this happen with a grim expression on his face, still carding his fingers gently through Calum’s dark curls as the younger boy clung to him, his pulse finally beginning to return to normal.

“Did you hear what Sierra said, curly?” Ashton asked, pitching his voice as calmly as possible. “There’s gonna be another explosion in a minute, okay? But it’s nothing to be scared of - there are officers with forcefield abilities to contain it. It’ll just be loud.”

The officers were walking down the middle of the avenue now, clearing the remaining stragglers away from the transport parked innocuously at the far end of the road. For a moment, the only movements were the flickering shadows as the flashing lights of the Claritan Constabulary vehicles illuminated the tarmac.

Then, with a great roar, the transport exploded into a ball of flame. It seared at the purplish confines of the forcefields, amber and deadly, and when the shield was lowered, the smoke billowed out into the night sky in a choking cloud, leaving the obliterated remains of the vehicle lying broken in the road.

Calum flinched violently when the explosion detonated, hiding his face in the Crown Prince’s neck as he bit his lip hard to keep his frightened sob in, his tears beginning to fall anew. He’d cried all of his eyeliner away and he seemed small now, hunched up in the older boy’s arms with bruise-like circles under his exhausted eyes as he began to tremble once more.

Slowly, Calum seemed to become aware that their friends were surrounding them. Michael was kneeling down beside them, leaning against Laura’s legs as she stared defiantly at the flames, her fingers firmly entwined with Luke’s. Niall’s chin was resting on the younger boy’s shoulder, his arms wrapped warmly around Luke’s waist as Sierra stood beside him, patting Ashton’s hair comfortingly where he was sitting by her feet.

Even Harry was close by, still doing his best to keep the strongest of their emotions hidden from the cameras trained on their every move.

The Crown Prince only had eyes for Calum. He wasn’t even thinking of the bodies lined up nearby or the members of the Purgatio who had been locked away in the Constabulary’s transports; not when Calum was crying against his chest, his newly-healed arm wrapped around the older boy’s shoulders as he clung to him, uncaring of the way they were undoubtedly being recorded right that second.

“Angel,” the Prince breathed, his dark eyes reflecting the last of the fire as it burnt itself away into nothing. His hands were trembling, his cheeks damp with tears as his lips parted at the tenderness on the Crown Prince’s face. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Cal?” Ashton murmured, his fingertips brushing the younger boy’s jaw gently as he leant closer to hear him over the crackle of flames.

“I love you,” Calum said, shaking. The fear in his eyes was overwhelmed by the sincerity and he didn’t seem to care that his words were being broadcast across the planet. “I _love_ you, angel. I couldn’t die and not tell you that.”

Ashton could barely see past the tears blurring his eyes but that didn’t stop him from twisting to cradle the Prince’s face between his palms, his thumbs smoothing through the dust and dried blood, the affection on his face painfully clear.

“I’m not letting you die at all,” Ashton promised and when he kissed Calum then, he didn’t care that the whole world was watching.

Calum was his family.

Everyone else would just have to get used to it.

*

The next couple of hours passed slowly.

Everyone who had been present on the avenue was interviewed by the Claritan Constabulary and checked over by an experienced medic before they were granted permission to leave, and by the time they’d finally been loaded into a transport to take them back to the palace, Calum could barely keep his eyes open.

He dozed against Ashton’s shoulder on the short drive back, relishing the lack of pain in his wrist as the older boy held his hand, dropping awestruck kisses onto his cheek whenever his emotions overwhelmed him.

Several sets of parents were waiting for them when the group staggered into the entrance hall, and Calum greeted Joy and David tearfully, too drained to even process the shock he felt at receiving two hugs from his father in one day. Being embraced by his parents was a strange but welcome sensation and he felt even calmer when Mali joined the hug too, pressing a kiss to the Prince’s forehead.

“You look so tired, Cal,” she said softly, like she wasn’t exhausted herself. “You should go upstairs and rest. We can all catch up in the morning before mum and dad fly home, yeah?”

“That’s a good idea, darling,” Joy said quietly, the worry fading from her face a little at the sight of her two children standing before her. “Make sure you go straight to sleep.”

“Perhaps shower first,” David interjected, his weak attempt at humour so unusual that Calum shot him a wide-eyed look, even despite his weariness. “There’s rather a lot of dirt in your hair.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Calum replied, his lips twitching into a faint smile as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure of how else to respond. He was saved the bother by Ashton catching his gaze, his red hair limp as his hand settled on the bannister leading up the stairs. He cocked his head curiously and Calum went to him at once, with barely a mumbled goodnight to his family.

He was too tired for pleasantries.

He’d almost lost so many of his loved ones tonight that hiding away from the world with Ashton seemed like the best plan in the world when his nerves still felt so raw. He took the older boy’s hand unthinkingly, their fingers entwining as the Crown Prince led him up the stairs, and it was only when they reached Ashton’s rooms that Calum finally let his guard down.

His torn suit jacket slipped to the ground through shaking fingers, his hands trembling so badly that he couldn’t undo the buttons on his shirt. Ashton moved to help him, his movements sluggish now as the weariness settled over him although his hazel eyes remained focused on Calum’s face.

“How’re you feeling now?” the older boy asked softly, concerned. “Panic attacks are horrible at the best of times but the first one’s always the worst.”

Calum shrugged, more ashamed than he could put into words as he recalled the state he’d got himself in to tonight, while everyone else had been trying to save people.

“I’m just… embarrassed,” the younger boy muttered, looking increasingly mortified. He shook his head as words failed him and Ashton softened, his palm rising to cradle the Prince’s cheek.

“You have no reason to be,” the older boy promised. “Everyone loses their shit in a firefight for the first time. It’s a horrible, _horrible_ situation to be in.” He hesitated, his brow creasing when he noticed at the self-loathing on Calum’s face. “Curly, think about the magic you performed today. You saved my life and almost drained yourself in the process and… fuck, no wonder you felt a bit delicate tonight! No one can blame you for getting upset. You’ve been through more today than a lot of people go through their whole lives.”

Calum relaxed a little, slumping forwards as his forehead came to rest on the older boy’s shoulder.

“How’d you always know exactly what to say?” he murmured as his arms wrapped warmly around the Crown Prince’s waist. They were both sweaty and sooty, stinking of smoke and fear, and they’d definitely need to shower before they slept. For now though, holding on to each other felt more important.

“Guess I’m just too smart for my own good,” Ashton murmured, his soft laughter fading quickly in the silence of his bedroom. The water in the fish tank was calm tonight and he stroked Calum’s back soothingly, pressing a kiss to the healing graze above his eyebrow. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you too,” the older boy said suddenly, his tone tentative and cautious. Calum stilled in his arms, his heart racing when he heard the older boy swallow audibly, like he was fighting nerves.

“I love you too, curly,” Ashton said quietly, his hazel eyes fiercely loving when the younger boy gazed at him in disbelief. “I think I have since the beginning.”

Calum leant down to kiss him with a choked sob, his sore eyes already overflowing with fresh tears as he wrapped his arms around the Crown Prince, holding him closer. Calum had never felt this vulnerable before but he almost forgot his fear existed when Ashton was kissing him like this, so tender and warm, and utterly comforting.

“I love you,” Calum breathed against his lips, his eyelashes spiky with tears, his eyes glittering when the older boy only hugged him tighter. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ll never stop.”

Calum had never been so emotionally vulnerable before but he was glad the first time was with Ashton.

He wanted them to stay like this for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought :)


	11. A Better Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone!  
> This chapter turned out way more angsty than I'd planned but hopefully you'll all enjoy it.  
> Thanks as always to Laura for motivating me and getting me excited to write again :)  
> Also we've hit 100,000 words and I'm very proud!
> 
> Trigger warning for explicit sexual content, aftermath of physical violence (non graphic), mentions of terrorism, reference to past child abuse, non-graphic panic attack, and brief non-graphic mentions of abduction and psychological torture.

**_I know there’s somewhere better,_ **

**_‘Cause you always take me there._ **

**_Came to you with a broken faith;_ **

**_Gave me more than a hand to hold._ **

**_Caught before I hit the ground._ **

**_Tell me I’m safe; you’ve got me now._ **

_\- Take Me Home, Jess Glynne_

 

Ashton dressed in darkness.

Several days had passed since the Purgatio’s attack outside the Caelum Assembly Building but his body still ached with it. Despite this, he’d been trying to remain positive by keeping a smile plastered on his face for his friends and family but, on a day like today, that simply wasn’t possible.

Usually in the weeks leading up to the Boneflats Remembrance Day, it would plague his every waking hour but, with Calum and the Elevare to focus on, Ashton had remained blissfully unaware of it approaching, right up until his parents had tentatively mentioned it during dinner the night before.

There would be a ceremony today. Mourners would line the streets and a solemn parade would pass through Aureum, with the Claritan royal family and their Tenebran guests leading the procession. It would be broadcast live across Cerasus, along with choice footage from the battle – the jets roaring, the crisp uniforms, the moment the ceasefire was declared – and, this year, it would be worse than ever.

Ashton had missed the last Remembrance Day because he’d been fighting on the Boneflats himself, adding to the carnage and the death toll, and hating himself for every life he took.

Reliving that today would be horrific but he knew he wasn’t alone. The surviving members of the Claritan army not currently away fighting would walk behind him but even that didn't offer any feelings of comfort or solidarity. The Crown Prince was certain the soldiers hated him after his actions had taken the lives of so many of their friends and family, and he knew it didn’t matter that his intentions had been honourable. He was still a murderer, even if he _had_ been able to forget that for a little while. The rest of Cerasus certainly hadn’t.

A lump rose in his throat as he struggled into his shirt, shuddering the way he always did when the material brushed against the thick scar on his spine, reminding him of the horrific mistake he’d made. He hated feeling so self-pitying but it was hard to avoid when the guilt he could feel was crushing him to dust.

He sank down onto the edge of his bed slowly, his shirt still unbuttoned, his red curls tangled from tossing and turning the night before. He buried his head in his hands when the tears boiled over, hating himself for this show of weakness, even if Calum _was_ still sleeping beneath the blankets behind him.

For a while, Ashton let himself cry quietly. He'd been holding it in for so long now, convinced that he didn’t deserve to feel misery when he’d caused so much devastation to other people’s lives but… fuck, he was only human after all. There was only so much he could _take_.

He was just congratulating himself on managing to cry silently when Calum proved that he wasn’t as subtle as he liked to think. The Prince rolled closer over the mattress, his arm snaking warmly around the older boy’s waist as he pressed a kiss to the small of his back, right over the scar hidden beneath his shirt.

“It’ll be okay, angel,” Calum murmured, his voice rougher than usual with sleep. “I’ll be with you today, yeah? You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Ashton’s breath escaped him in an embarrassing sob, his fingers twisting roughly through his curls as he struggled to speak past the anxiety knotting itself around his lungs.

“I don’t deserve comfort right now, okay?” he choked out, his hazel eyes overflowing with bitter tears. Quite suddenly, he couldn’t keep his sobs in anymore and he hated how frightened he was of the inevitable headlines once the general public started watching footage of his part in the final battle again. The press would stalk him like bloodhounds and Ashton still had the scars from the _last_ time they'd tried to tear him apart. He wasn't sure he could survive that again but... fuck, suffering like this was what he deserved.

Even Calum’s love wasn’t enough to make him feel better about today.

“It’s all my fault,” Ashton said dully, his flushed cheeks sticky with tears. “I made everything so much worse and –”

“Oi,” Calum interrupted, his gaze softening as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, shuffling closer so that he could bracket Ashton warmly between his thighs. “You can’t shoulder the blame for an entire war, Ash, and it would be silly to try.” He hooked his chin over the older boy’s shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the fading claw marks the mordere had left on his cheek. “You don’t have to carry _everything_ by yourself.”

“I have to try,” Ashton breathed, his shoulders slumping. The Prince’s arms wrapped once more around his waist, his bare chest warm against the older boy’s back where they were resting together.

“Actually, you don’t,” Calum pointed out kindly, sleep-rumpled and loving as he smoothed his palm comfortingly over the older boy’s ribs, trying to make him feel okay again. “You’ve got a whole lot of people who love you, angel. Try not to forget that.”

He smoothed Ashton’s curls back gently, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of his neck. It made the older boy shiver and, heartened, Calum drew the Crown Prince down onto the mattress with him, his hand slipping into the confines of Ashton’s shirt as he stroked the warm skin soothingly.

“ _Cal_ ,” the older boy whined weakly, his cheeks still damp with tears even as he pressed a kiss to the corner of the Prince’s mouth. Calum drew him closer, his hand sliding up Ashton’s back to tangle gently in his red curls as his lips trailed across the older boy’s throat, teasing enough that he trembled with anticipation.

“My clothes are gonna get crumpled, Cal,” he said pitifully, drying his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’ll look bad.”

“You're only _half_ wearing a shirt, angel,” the younger boy pointed out, his expression soft. “You do make a good point though. Maybe we should take it off.”

Ashton groaned when he felt Calum’s teeth lightly grazing his throat as he helped the Crown Prince out of his shirt, his fingertips brushing teasingly over the skin. The older boy tilted his head to one side in the hope of receiving more kisses, his hazel eyes falling shut in contentment when the Prince leant closer, even as Ashton’s fingers twisted fretfully in the blankets.

“The ceremony –” he began, his breath catching when Calum bit down lightly, sucking a bruise into his neck.

“– isn’t for hours yet,” the younger boy said softly, his tone a little smug when Ashton shuddered at the feeling of Calum’s hot breath on his skin. “We have time.”

“Okay,” the older boy breathed, his resolve weakening as he relaxed under the gentle kisses the Prince was scattering across his shoulders. He turned his head, his hazel eyes glinting in the shadows as he held Calum's gaze. “Want you, curly.” His voice was soft, his hands shaking a little. “Want you so bad.”

“Want you too, angel,” Calum whispered, pressing a softer kiss to the older boy’s throat, his chocolate brown eyes glittering with affection. His fingertips slipped into Ashton’s boxers and he stroked the warm skin lightly, the touch teasing enough that the Crown Prince shuddered, his hips rocking back against Calum’s as a soft whine built in his throat. “What do you want me to do, Ash?” His voice was low with promise as he helped the older boy out of his boxers, his expression nothing short of reverent. “How can I make you feel good?

Ashton rolled over to kiss him, still shaking a little as he reached for Calum’s hand and brought it down between his legs, feeling a thrill when the younger boy seemed content to go with the flow. He shuddered when Calum’s fingers wrapped around his cock and they both groaned when Ashton drew the Prince’s fist up clumsily to where he was already leaking at the tip.

“You make the prettiest sounds,” Calum murmured, biting his lip at the soft moans escaping the older boy when he relinquished control, crumpling the blankets in his fists as he succumbed to the pleasure. Calum watched with satisfaction as Ashton's eyes fluttered shut, a broken whine escaping him when the movement of the younger boy’s fist quickened.

“You’re such a good boy for me,” Calum said softly, loving the way the older boy melted against him at the praise. Ashton’s forehead fell to rest on the younger boy’s shoulder, his lips parted around weak moans as he watched his cock gliding through the tight circle of Calum’s fingers.

“I love you, Cal,” Ashton breathed, his eyes growing damp again as he realised how lucky he was to have someone as wonderful as the Prince in his life, especially after everything he’d done wrong.

“I love you too,” Calum promised but his expression became knowing when he raised the older boy’s chin gently with his free hand, his dark eyes soft. “You’re still thinking too much, angel,” he murmured, leaning closer to capture Ashton’s lips in a soft kiss. “Let me help you forget.”

*

Laura’s mum had made the blanket when she was a little girl, back before Luke had been born. The patchwork quilt was faded and worn with age by now but Laura still loved it, especially on days like today when she badly needed the comfort.

Watching the Boneflats Remembrance Day broadcast had never been easy. Hearing the death toll and watching the footage had upset her enough when she was younger but, after having served during the war herself, the horror of it was enough to leave her trembling.

She’d barely slept last night and the exhaustion was eating away at her now as she snuggled further under the blanket, leaning against Michael’s side. Luke had crept into her room in the early hours of the morning, apparently able to hear her frustrated sighs through the wall judging by the worried expression on his face. He’d slipped under the blankets with her wordlessly, his arms wrapping warmly around her as he stroked her hair in an effort to keep her calm.

She looked across at her little brother now, taking in the unhappiness in his eyes as he watched the Remembrance Day broadcast on their comms screen. The only thing keeping the anxiety simmering under her skin was Michael’s arm wrapped around her, his lips lightly brushing her hair as he patted her knee comfortingly through the blanket.

The grim-faced reporter on screen was gesturing to where the parade through central Aureum was about to begin and Luke bit his lip unhappily when a clip of the final battle was played, the footage shaky and crackling as whoever was holding the camera began to run.

In the armchair beside his, Ashley grimaced, looking away with a soft sigh. She still hadn’t completely healed from the injury she’d sustained and she looked small where she was curled up on the cushions, her pale face free of make-up, her dark hair soft and free of product as it fell across her frowning forehead.

She’d turned up with Michael half an hour earlier, looking sheepish and awkward as he nudged her into the apartment ahead of him with a hand resting comfortingly on her good shoulder. She was still heavily bandaged under her jumper and she moved stiffly as Laura guided her to a chair, pleased to see that her little brother had already started boiling water to make their guests hot drinks.

No one commented on Ashley’s unexpected presence and she seemed grateful for their easy acceptance. It was clear that Michael had taken pity on her, not wanting his friend to be left alone while the Hood siblings were leading the procession with Ashton and his parents.

“How’s your shoulder healing up, Ashley?” Laura asked quietly, relieved to tear her eyes away from the harrowing footage on-screen. The younger girl looked over in surprise, a hesitant smile curving her lips as she offered a half-hearted shrug.

“It’s not too sore,” Ashley said thoughtfully, her eyes soft. “Thanks to you.” She shivered a little, holding her mug closer to her chest as her gaze dropped to the steaming liquid inside. “I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

“Nonsense,” Laura said softly, her tone firm. “No friend of mine is getting killed on my watch. I can promise you that.”

Ashley glowed at being referred to as the older girl’s friend, her lips pressing together to hide her smile. This was a side to her Laura hadn’t seen before and she was glad she was privy to it now, even if it _was_ in less than ideal circumstances, with mourners filling the comms screen and the boys watching the broadcast with grave expressions.

“Hey, look,” Michael said suddenly, his tone coloured with excitement as he broke the quiet that had fallen. “It’s Cal and Ash!”

Laura followed his gaze, her lips curving up weakly when she saw the two Princes filling the screen. They were standing side by side in inky black suits, their expressions grave as they stared out over the crowd gathered to watch the procession. Mali stood beside them, her dark outfit interrupted only by her silver jewellery glinting in the light of another overcast day as she squared her shoulders apprehensively.

When the first speaker stepped up to the podium on the stage to recount their personal story of serving on the Boneflats, Ashton began to fidget, clearly distressed as his gaze dropped to the ground. He grew tenser with every word – that would have been evident over the comms screen even if Calum _hadn’t_ been glancing at him with poorly-disguised concern every few seconds – and Laura knew her brother and the others had noticed it by how quiet they’d become.

Sierra had been sent along to protect the Crown Prince and she was standing just behind him now, her eyes trained on his back although they widened when the speaker began to recount their experience of the day the ceasefire was declared after Ashton had triggered the rockslide.

Fletcher and Anne Irwin looked similarly troubled where they were standing beside the podium but there was nothing they could do during the broadcast; nothing that wouldn’t make their son look volatile and tragic. Sierra took a hesitant step closer, paling visibly when the faintest flicker of blue flame licked at Ashton’s trembling fingertips… and then Calum took his hand, lacing their fingers together firmly, uncaring of the danger or what the rest of the world might think.

Ashton calmed at his touch and, as the fire flickered away to nothing, the camera focused on the pair for a moment, Calum’s expression fiercely defiant as he tightened his grip, refusing to let go. When neither made any move to release the other, the camera panned slowly to Anne who was preparing to begin her own speech and – accompanied by everyone else in the apartment – Laura let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Fuck,” Luke breathed, his face pale as he exchanged a wide-eyed glance with his sister. “Ash almost just… _Fuck_.”

“I know,” she murmured, her chest tight with anxiety as she recalled the dangerous blue flames burning so close to Calum’s skin. “Ash hasn't been so close to losing it in months. I thought he felt _better_ now.”

“Maybe he does,” Michael interjected quietly, still watching the screen with wide eyes although he let his cheek rest gently on Laura’s hair. “Everyone’s bound to have blips sometimes, no matter how good their control is. That’s how it works with my lightning anyway.” He blushed a little, glancing up hesitantly and relaxing when he saw the fondness on Laura’s face as Ashley nodded her agreement, looking faintly proud. “Ash is under a lot of stress at the moment too,” Michael continued, his tone more confident now. “Especially with the Purgatio targeting him like this... and then to have the pressure of competing in the Elevare on top of all that… well, it would be enough to scrape anyone's nerves raw.”

“That’s true,” Luke said quietly, his blue eyes flickering back unhappily to the comms screen as the Queen finished her speech. Her husband stood behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder as his gaze scanned the crowd, his brow creasing at some of the signs that were being brandished. None of them made it clearly into the broadcast but, if Laura squinted at the crowd in the background, she thought she could make out the phrases ‘ _Fire Prince_ ’ and ‘ _traitor_ ’, neither of which boded very well for her best friend.

The stage was bristling with security guards, all of them grim-faced as they guarded the royalty facing the crowd. Despite the Tenebran King and Queen leaving the country the day before, their children had remained behind and the Claritan royals would do everything possible to ensure the safety of their guests.

Privately, Laura wondered if this wasn’t some sort of show of strength too. Perhaps the royal council were hoping that a display of stealth and power would be enough to intimidate the Purgatio into surrendering or, at the very least, not launching another attack. Stranger things had happened after all.

“They’re still holding hands,” Ashley noted when the camera panned over the Princes once more. “Y’know, it’s kind of sweet. I’ve never seen Cal like this before and I've known him for... what? Six years now?”

“Give or take,” Michael said with a shrug. “You’re not wrong though. I’ve never seen him like this either.” He looked wrong-footed suddenly, like he wasn’t sure how he felt. “I guess he meant what he told Ash the other night then. The wicked Princess has discovered that he _did_ have a heart after all.”

“Meanie,” Laura said with great dignity, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. “He’s your best friend, sparky! Don’t sulk because you have to share him.”

Michael stuck his tongue out at her and Laura grinned, leaning closer to press a soft kiss to his cheek. Ashley watched them fondly for a moment before her gaze returned to the screen, a wistful sigh escaping her when she saw Mali standing there with her head held high, her long hair fluttering in the breeze.

The only person not smiling was Luke.

He looked small as he huddled up in the armchair, his gaze fixed on the screen where the gathered royals were finally stepping down off the stage to lead the procession through the streets of Aureum. Calum and Ashton’s fingers were still firmly entwined, and Laura wanted to be happy that they appeared to be in this for the long haul – that they weren’t ashamed to hold each other close in broad daylight; that Calum’s words on the night of the party hadn’t been the product of desperation and adrenaline – but it was hard when Luke was wilting like that, his shoulders slumping as his arms wrapped around himself protectively.

She thought she understood why he looked quite so dejected too because, despite her brother and Ashton no longer being romantically interested in each other, it had to hurt that they’d never been public like this. Their relationship had always been kept a secret and, no matter how much Laura loved Ashton, she would never agree with the way he’d hidden his feelings for Luke, even if it _had_ been because he was afraid of what the press would say.

It was no wonder her brother felt resentful now, when Ashton had _finally_ found the courage to tell the world how he felt about Calum. Laura couldn’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t have felt bitter at this situation.

“Hey, lofty,” she said, raising her voice a little to be heard over the sound of the broadcast. A number of jets were flying over the solemn procession on the comms screen, trailing golden and white smoke behind them to reflect the royal colours of Claritas. Her brother looked up curiously and she smiled faintly, hoping to cheer him up. “Are you seeing Niall today?”

He shrugged but it was impossible to miss the way he brightened at the mention of the older man’s name.

“Maybe I’ll go bother him now,” Luke said thoughtfully, his lips curving up into a faint smile. “Will you be okay here, tiny? I know watching this makes you feel bad.”

“I’m okay,” Laura promised, heartened that he was so considerate. “I'm not on my own.”

“We’ll look after her,” Michael promised, his arm still wrapped securely around her shoulders. “Go and have fun, Luke.”

“Yeah,” Ashley agreed with a tired grin. “We’ll try not to ruin the apartment while you’re gone.” The smile faded a little once he’d left and her expression became inquisitive instead as she turned to face the others, wincing a little when the movement pulled her shoulder. “Niall is the empath, right?”

“Right,” Michael agreed, watching her carefully as his thumb stroked the warm skin of Laura’s neck. “He’s a nice guy, Ash.”

“Why are you –?” Ashley looked perplexed for a moment before her words trailed away as her cheeks heated. “I don’t have a problem with him, Mike! I know some Tenebrans can get a bit jumpy about empaths but… I was genuinely just curious. That’s why I asked.”

“Well, you understand why I had to check,” Michael said awkwardly, aware that Laura was watching him in confusion out of the corner of his eye. “After the way Calum reacted when he first met Niall, I can’t be too careful.”

“It was that bad?” Ashley asked, wincing good-naturedly as she ran a hand through her cropped hair, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip.

“The pair get along well enough now but… yeah, it wasn’t good,” Michael said heavily, flushing faintly when Laura muted the broadcast, much more interested in their conversation. “Calum totally freaked out; said he really embarrassed himself. It's a good thing Niall was so relaxed about it.”

“I don’t get it,” Laura admitted with a frown. “Why don’t Tenebrans like empaths? They’re the same as anyone else. It’s just one more type of magical ability.”

“Well… it’s kind of a long story,” Michael said uncomfortably. “Empaths haven’t been welcome in Tenebris for almost half a century now. They're banned from living in Effervo, the capital city, and they get an automatic prison sentence if they set foot within even a mile of the citadel, regardless of how good a reason they might have.”

“That’s horrible,” Laura said softly. “What happened to make the Tenebrans so... so _distrustful_?”

“Think about what you know of Tenebris,” Ashley said quietly. “Emotions are always hidden, right? The more emotionless you appear, the stronger you seem... and that disguise is rendered useless whenever an empath is near. There's nothing to hide behind.”

“There’s more to it than that though,” Michael admitted hesitantly, tensing a little when both girls turned to watch him inquisitively. When Laura realised that Ashley looked confused too, her curiosity grew. “This is a secret, okay? Neither of you can tell anyone else. _I_ only know because Calum told me a few years ago.”

He bit his lip, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves although he relaxed when Laura reached for his hand.

“Around two decades ago, the King’s younger brother Thomas was abducted,” Michael explained grimly. “They were anti-royalists and they didn’t want the Hood family reigning Tenebris any longer. They wanted information on the security around the citadel; on David’s routines and habits. They wanted to assassinate him and seize control themselves.” His voice became softer as he continued to speak, his gaze falling to settle on his fingers entwined with Laura’s. “But… well, their plans changed.”

Michael shuddered as he remembered the night Calum had told him the truth; the sheen of tears in the younger boy’s eyes and the whispered words that frantically cut off whenever a guard passed in the corridor outside.

“The leader of their group was an empath; a man from the outer edges of Tenebris with a chip on his shoulder after the way the nation treated those with empathic abilities. He decided it would be better to send Thomas back in broken pieces instead and… and that’s what he did. He took his mind apart; tore away all of the strength and the ice Thomas had built up over the years when he’d been fighting to appear strong for his nation…”

Ashley gasped, her face crumpling as she processed his words. She’d known Thomas well, both because he was Mali's uncle and because they'd served together during the Boneflats War, but she'd clearly never been privy to this information. Laura looked upset at the younger girl’s obvious misery, fiddling with a lock of hair nervously as her soft eyes flickered to Michael’s face, apparently trusting that he was about to give the story a happy ending... but there _was_ no happy ending. Not in Tenebris. Not for Thomas.

“Uncle Tommy came back home broken,” Michael said in little more than a whisper. “He'd always been known as the best of the Hood family – the strongest, the coldest, the shrewdest – but all of that was gone. He was… he was _soft_ instead. That’s how everyone described him after. It was like all of his fight had been stolen.” He sighed bitterly, his lip almost bloodless with how hard he was biting it. “Mali was only a baby when Thomas came home and Calum hadn't been born yet. Neither of them ever knew their uncle as anything _but_ a kind, bumbling man who was hidden away in the citadel. Even when I moved in with them, we never knew there was anything wrong. It just wasn't spoken about… but then, nothing’s spoken about in Tenebris, is it? That’s the problem.”

His eyes were bright with anger now, his cheeks flushing with colour as his hands curled into fists.

“That’s the worst thing about Tenebris. There are all these horrible secrets and then, when they inevitably come to light one day, you're expected to just accept it; to hide your emotions and pretend everything's fine, and it's… it’s fucked up. It’s _so_ fucked up because… because now empaths _everywhere_ are being discriminated against just because David blames the lot of them for the actions of one man. He’s blaming tens of thousands of innocent people with empathic abilities for taking his brother away... when really, if he’d just _tried_ to get to know Tommy again instead of writing him off as a lost cause, he would’ve loved him as much as we did. He would’ve realised Tommy had never left at all.”

He didn't realise the tears prickling in his eyes had boiled over until Laura brushed one away gently with her thumb, her expression twisted with sadness as she leant her head against his shoulder. Ashley held his gaze, her jaw squared unhappily although she forced a faint smile that didn’t warm her features at all.

“You were always Tommy’s favourite,” she said quietly. “Mali used to whine about it all the time. She said he bought you better birthday presents than everyone else.”

“Well, you can’t exactly blame him, can you?” Michael teased, giving her a watery smile. “I am literally the greatest person on all of Cerasus.”

“With such an under-inflated ego too,” Ashley retorted, rolling her eyes amusedly. “I commend you, Mike. It’s hard to imagine how you manage to stay so grounded.”

“You've been hanging around with Mali for too long!” Michael protested, the whine audible in his voice. “Stop picking on me!” He glanced over at Laura, clearly hoping she’d step in to defend him, but he sobered a little at the thoughtful expression on her face. “You okay, petal?” he asked gently. “Did you have a question?”

“Maybe,” Laura said hesitantly, her tone delicate. “I think I get why Calum and Mali were so wary now... but how come _you_ weren't, Mike? Didn't David and Joy raise you too?”

“I guess I have my parents to thank for that,” Michael said with a shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it before but… well, I travelled with mum and dad a lot when I was younger. They had so many political conferences they spoke at all over Tenebris and they usually took me with them. I met all kinds of people there – _including_ empaths, who had never done anything wrong but were still treated badly. It… it kind of resonated with me, I guess. My magic still hadn’t manifested then and I got bullied for it at school, and I think my parents were trying to show me that even in the face of adversity like that, I could still make something of myself. It was... it was really cool of them.”

He was a little choked up by the end of his explanation and Laura squeezed his hand comfortingly, not liking the thought of anyone being mean to Michael at all.

“That makes perfect sense, Mike,” Ashley said once she’d carefully considered his words, her hand rising to rub her aching shoulder distractedly. “In a way, serving during the Boneflats had the same effect on me. It was the reality check I needed to wake up and realise that they were people just like me; people with families and fears and… and _pets_. They weren’t anything to be scared of, in the same way that someone who can manipulate fire or water or metal isn’t frightening. The ability is only as dangerous as the person wielding it and it’s far past time the Tenebrans learnt to accept that.”

“Exactly!” Michael agreed vehemently, his green eyes shining. “If more people thought the way you did, Tenebris would be a better place.” Laura bit her lip suddenly, her chest tightening with anxiety.

“But… Niall’s flying out to Tenebris with us soon,” she gasped, her eyes widening. “Won’t it be dangerous for him?”

“Cal said his dad has spoken to Ashton’s parents about this,” Michael said with an uneasy shrug. “They’ve explained that Niall’s the best healer they have and there’s no way the second half of the tournament is going ahead without Niall by Ashton’s side… so I guess arrangements have been made.”

“He’ll need security though,” Ashley said unhappily, biting her lip hard. “And he can’t go out alone. That would be far too dangerous.”

Laura felt a sinking feeling in her chest as she considered the implications of this. She grew more wary at the prospect of travelling to Tenebris with every day that passed and this new information had done nothing to make her feel any better about it. All she could comfort herself with was the fact that she could see the place Michael had grown up and hopefully get to know him better in the process.

Thinking about the distant nation in any more detail than that was too frightening to consider.

On the comms screen, the camera was panning over the mourners now, showing the sheer scale of the crowd who had come out to watch the procession. It looked eerie with the sound muted, each silent face twisted in grief or shock or even pride, and they all fell quiet to stare. The hairs on the back of Michael’s neck rose when the image zoomed out, showing just how many people had gathered to watch the royal family pass through the streets.

They seemed shockingly vulnerable suddenly and Michael felt a little sick, badly wanting the Hood siblings and Ashton back where he knew without a doubt that they were safe. He desperately hoped that the Purgatio wouldn't be foolish enough to scale an attack today, especially under the watchful eye of so many security guards. He just wanted his friends to come back home.

“I… I do have one more question actually,” Laura said suddenly, her voice very soft. She pursed her lips as she tried to consider the best way to phrase what she wanted to ask but, even when she quietly spoke again, she remained uncertain. “I never knew King David had a brother before today. He’s never been mentioned on any of the comms channels.” She looked uncomfortable, her cheeks heating a little even despite the soft look Michael shot her. “What happened to Thomas in the end?”

Laura had been expecting the answer to come from Michael so it came as a surprise when it was Ashley who spoke instead.

“Thomas served alongside me during the Boneflats War,” she explained before her dark eyes grew damp, her lips pressing together unhappily. “He was… he was killed by Ashton.”

“It’s true,” Michael said softly when Laura looked at him anxiously, her lip drawn between her teeth. “There was never a proper funeral because we never recovered his body. There was only ash.”

“That’s terrible,” she breathed, feeling utterly drained after the unexpected weight of the conversation. “I’m all for forgiveness but… well, I can’t imagine befriending someone who had taken a loved one away.” She felt guilty as she spoke but the words were the truth and she didn’t bother denying them. If someone hurt Luke or one of her parents, she wouldn’t be able to give them the time of day, let alone her friendship. “I mean… Calum’s fallen in _love_ with Ash. If I’d known what you’d all been through, I never would have imagined that we’d end up as close as this.”

“We aren’t our mistakes,” Michael said quietly, his voice firm. “Anyone can see that Ashton never meant to do what he did. You only need to watch the footage once to see that.”

“I’ve never watched it,” Laura whispered, looking away as a lump rose in her throat. “It was awful enough in person.”

She bit her lip suddenly as it occurred to her that, if Michael had seen the footage of Ashton exploding in flame and causing the rockslide, he must have seen the aftermath too: must have seen Laura fighting to save his life while the skin of her hands peeled away… the way she’d screamed in pain even as she tried to keep him alive with her stasis spell.

He’d never once asked her about it, not wanting to make her uncomfortable or unhappy, and she loved him so much in that moment that she thought she might burst from it.

Almost like he could tell what she was thinking, Michael’s hand slipped to cup her cheek and she leant into it gratefully, her eyes falling shut when his lips lightly brushed her forehead.

“Love you,” Laura whispered and Michael’s blushing face creased into a gentle smile.

“Love you too,” he mumbled, still sheepish but undeniably happy. He perked up suddenly, his emerald eyes glittering as he scrambled up from the sofa, tucking the blanket back around her hastily when she shivered at the cool air. “I know what’ll make you feel better!” he declared excitedly. “Those amazing sweets you guys have here!”

He bounded off into the kitchen to search for them and Laura watched him go fondly, glancing over in surprise when Ashley rose from the armchair, still moving a little stiffly from her injury as she slumped down onto the sofa beside the older girl.

“Mike’s a sweetheart,” she said quietly, catching the older girl’s gaze and holding it for a moment. “You look after him, okay? He deserves it.”

“I know he does,” Laura said gently, her tone warm although her smile quickly became teasing. “Looks like Mikey doesn’t have just _one_ over-protective sister in his life then.” She giggled when Ashley pretended to be offended, her blue eyes crinkling when the younger girl leant against her unconsciously, looking more relaxed than she had done since landing in Claritas.

Laura thought perhaps her and Ashley might end up close friends after all.

*

The strike came out of nowhere and Niall felt his lip burst against the stranger’s knuckles as his knees folded beneath him. He hit the ground hard, a low groan tearing out of him as he felt his attacker’s anger and smugness dancing on the fringes of his consciousness. The cruel emotions were quickly lost beneath his pounding headache and, by the time Niall finally managed to lift his head, the stranger had already vanished from sight.

He pushed himself off the ground with a muffled curse, spitting blood as his lip stung at the abuse it had been subjected too. He shuddered at the taste in his mouth as he checked warily that none of his teeth had been knocked loose, his whole jaw aching as he used the wall nearby to claw himself upright.

Niall hadn’t been hurt like this in a long time but he supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him. With the way tensions had been mounting recently, an attack like this should have been expected, especially on Boneflats Remembrance Day when emotions were running so high. It had always been like this growing up and he’d known since he was a kid that people were scared of things they didn’t understand, and unfortunately it just so happened that his empathic abilities fell into that category.

Niall had been knocked around for his magic more times than he cared to admit - both from strangers and the people who should have taken care of him - and there was no reason for him to feel so shaken up now. That didn’t change the fact that he did though.

He thought the Purgatio might be to blame for this latest attack, especially with how notorious they were becoming lately, and the dangerous confidence they were exuding seemed to be inspiring many other people to embrace their own wickedness.

It had been the same when Niall had watched the broadcast of the ceremony earlier. Even on the comms screen, it had been painfully apparent that there was a sinister undercurrent this year that had been vastly different to the processions in the past. It had no longer seemed to be an occasion for grieving and celebrating the lives of the soldiers, but of fear and hatred instead.

People had been holding up signs in the crowd, many of them threatening Ashton or cursing the Elevare’s revival, and Niall had been so uncomfortable watching the parade that he’d had to switch the broadcast off in the end. Unfortunately, all that had done was leave him alone with his thoughts and the conclusions he had drawn hadn’t been at all pleasant.

He couldn’t quite shake off the realisation that something in the Purgatio had fundamentally changed over the last few months. The terrorist group seemed so much more organised than they had done when they’d first posted their angry rants on the comms channels and their attacks were carried out with terrifying efficiency nowadays.

It didn’t matter how often the Claritan Constabulary insisted that the ringleaders of the Purgatio had been captured the night they’d attacked the Caelum Assembly Building. Something about it didn’t sit right with Niall and he was certain someone else was pulling their strings, providing them with funds and important information so that they could better pick their targets.

The longer he dwelled on it, the more terrified he became because - while he was unsure of what their next move would be - he was absolutely certain that it couldn’t end well for him or the people he cared about.

The Purgatio had hit close to home too many times already.

A drop of blood running down his chin jarred him from his thoughts and Niall grimaced as he was reminded of his current predicament: leaning bleeding against a wall a few streets away from the palatial estate after he’d foolishly assumed that a post-lunchtime walk might be a pleasant way to calm his nerves. Apparently he’d been wrong.

He pushed himself away from the wall with a low groan, his head spinning at the throbbing pain he could feel as he stumbled over the pavement, leaving a trail of blood splattered behind him. The soldiers guarding the security checkpoint seemed shocked at the state he’d managed to get himself into in a relatively short amount of time but Niall made up a lie about losing his footing and they seemed content to drop it as they granted him passage to the estate. The guards were vigilant and on high alert, and there wasn’t time to fuss over a busted lip and a bloodied face, no matter how unprovoked the attack might have been.

He trudged miserably across the grass, feeling thoroughly sorry for himself as the doors to the entrance hall swung open. He was alerted to Luke’s presence by the sudden excited cawing of several different species of birds flapping out of the trees and he smiled weakly at the sight of the younger boy stepping into the sunlight, immediately regretting it when his lip began to bleed anew.

“Hey, Ni,” Luke called brightly as he approached. “I went to look for you in your apartment but you weren’t –” He broke off with a gasp, his eyes widening in horror when he noticed the blood. He closed the distance between them in seconds, his pale face growing blotchy with how upset he was at the sight of the older man's injuries.

“Ni?” he whispered, his eyes gleaming wetly as his shaking hands settled on the healer’s slumped shoulders. “Ni, what happened?”

Niall shrugged, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment as the shame inside started to make itself known once more. Maybe it was time for him to bite the bullet and learn to defend himself. It didn’t matter that the idea of hitting someone – even in self-defence – made him feel guilty. Clearly the rest of the world wouldn’t show him the same courtesy.

“Got hit,” he mumbled, wincing at the stinging pain in his lip. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” Luke disagreed, sounding choked up as he drew the older man timidly into a hug. He sighed softly when Niall relaxed in the warm circle of his arms, his cheek falling to rest on the younger boy's broad shoulder.

“Getting blood on your shirt, Lukey,” Niall said guiltily, his bruised face throbbing with pain although it felt less urgent when he felt a hand gently stroking his dark hair.

“I don’t care,” Luke breathed as his lips brushed the older man’s forehead gently. “I don’t care about anything but you right now.” He drew back after a moment, his trembling hand rising to cradle the healer’s cheek as his gaze settled on his sore lip. “I don’t understand why someone would want to hurt you, Ni.”

“Just who I am as a person I guess,” Niall muttered, cringing when his poor joke fell painfully flat. He sighed, his chest tight with anxiety and humiliation. “I don’t know, Lukey,” he said heavily as he withered in the younger boy’s gentle grip. “Probably because I’m an empath. That’s usually enough.” He bit his lip automatically, his face crumpling at the bright burst of pain he felt as the blood rolled hot over his skin. “You know how people are about things they don’t understand.”

“That’s no excuse,” Luke said weakly, his eyelashes spiky with tears as he stroked Niall’s jaw lightly with his thumb. He didn’t seem to understand that this was something Niall had suffered with his whole life: either downright scorn or physical violence, all because his abilities were invisible and, therefore, frightening.

“This feels like being at school again,” Niall admitted as he gestured to his sore face. He tried for a weak laugh but it fell flat when a tear rolled down his cheek and Luke looked like he was going to cry when he pulled the older man into a tighter hug.

“Can’t you heal yourself, Ni?” he whispered, his words warm against the healer’s neck. Niall shook his head, his eyes falling shut.

“Magic doesn’t work that way,” he said with a shrug, his voice quiet beneath the cawing of the birds. “It’s the same way Ash’s fire doesn’t burn him. You can drain yourself by burning out your magic but you can’t cause yourself harm or heal a wound on your own body... not when that's where the energy feeding the magic is coming from in the first place.”

“You’re smart,” Luke said and, although it looked like he was trying hard to smile, he was still fighting tears. The breeze had grown stronger as he became more distressed and Niall's hair was fluttering in the wind now, his eyes watering at the chill as the birds scattered back to the safety of their treetops.

Niall wrapped his arms warmly around the younger boy’s waist and Luke calmed against him, flushing a delicate pink as he smoothed his fingertips softly over the older man's cheekbone.

“You’re such a beautiful person, Ni,” Luke murmured. “You're like _sunshine_. You don't deserve to be hurt.” He ducked down to kiss the healer’s cheek and Niall sighed softly as the last of the shame bled out of him. “Come back to mine,” the younger boy suggested, his tone earnest. “Laura can heal you up in no time at all.”

“Okay,” Niall breathed, his eyes softening when Luke took his hand carefully, uncaring of the blood that had dripped onto it as he entwined their fingers. “Thank you, darling.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” the younger boy said firmly, his lips curving into a gentle smile. “I just want to keep you safe.”

They walked back to the apartment together in companionable silence but Niall felt strangely comfortable, especially when his headache began to ebb and he became more attuned to Luke's emotions fluttering at the edges of his consciousness.

He became aware of the worry and the relief first, both of them warring for precedence as the younger boy held his hand a little tighter, his jaw squared like he still felt troubled. There was a trace of something softer underneath though; something warmer and inviting enough to fall into that could only have been love.

Niall would have been able to detect it even without his empathic abilities because, when he looked into the younger boy’s beautiful eyes, he saw his own emotions reflected back at him. He wasn't ready to voice them yet though; not when he could still feel a hint of Luke's uncertainty when his sticky poisonous love for Ashton refused to completely wash away. It was dwindling though – they both felt the truth of that with every kiss they shared – and as it drifted out like the tide, Niall watched the sadness in Luke’s eyes fading.

He wasn’t bitter that the old love still lingered either because he knew exactly how that felt. He'd been hurt in love himself when he was younger and it felt suffocating sometimes, like it would never get any better. Niall was so glad he’d been proved wrong about that and he was happy Luke was beginning to learn the truth too.

The younger boy glanced over at him with a sparkle in his eyes that hadn’t been there before and, as their gazes met, Niall felt an overwhelming burst of love that seemed to come from both of them at once.

“Wow,” he murmured, dazed. “What a lot of emotions you’ve got there.”

Luke huffed out an embarrassed laugh, clearly trying to look haughty although the smirk curving across his blushing face didn’t quite meet the mark.

“Well, I’m very tall,” he said lightly, his blue eyes fiercely loving. “Lots of room for emotions in these stupidly gangly limbs.”

“I like your limbs,” the healer said sincerely. “And the rest of you. That’s not bad either.”

Luke giggled, slinging his arm comfortingly around the older man’s shoulders as Niall leant against him, unable to completely suppress the painful smile stretching across his face.

He was so glad he’d fallen in love with the bright joyful boy beside him but he was even more grateful that Luke had fallen in love with him too.

That meant more than anything in the world and he couldn’t have suppressed the happiness shining in his eyes if he’d tried.

By the time they finally made it back to the apartment, both of them had brightened considerably. Luke let them in without ceremony, toeing his trainers off in the hallway and encouraging Niall to do the same before he led him into the living room, the sofas and armchairs currently taken over by Laura, Michael, and – surprisingly – Ashley.

“Hey, buttercup,” Michael said brightly when Luke appeared in the doorway although he frowned when he saw the state of Niall’s bloodied face. “Fuck,” he breathed, biting his lip hard. “Who do I have to punch for hurting literally the nicest guy in existence?”

Niall smiled sheepishly in response, wincing a little at the throb of pain this caused.

“Not sure,” he said honestly, leaning heavily against Luke when the younger boy slipped his arm around him once more. “Someone super pissed off I guess?”

“Damnit,” Laura said unhappily, folding back the blanket she’d been sitting under and patting the sofa cushion beside her. “C’mere, Niall. Let’s fix that pretty face.”

She rolled her sleeves up as he slumped down beside her and he caught the briefest hint of tattoos before his gaze settled on her scarred hands. He felt a familiar prickle of guilt as he looked at them because he’d never been able to heal them completely, no matter how many times he’d tried. There was so much scar tissue that it was shocking she could use her hands properly at all and he felt a sudden surge of pride when he realised that she was still becoming an incredibly talented healer, even despite her disfigurement. He genuinely couldn’t have asked for a better student and he knew his admiration for her had showed on his face when she blushed, ducking her head shyly as she tried to get her smile under control.

Luke sank down onto the arm of the sofa behind Niall, smoothing his dark hair back softly as his sister reached for the older man’s face, her fingertips tracing lightly over his injuries. Niall closed his eyes when he felt the strange warmth blooming across his skin as his bottom lip healed, the damaged cells repairing themselves as the sharp stinging eased to nothing at all. The ache of the bruises faded next, first dulling before disappearing completely, and he hadn’t realised how badly his jaw had been aching until the pain was gone.

Niall let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, relaxing back against Luke with a soft sigh as the younger boy dropped a kiss onto his forehead which was thankfully no longer throbbing either.

“Thank you, Laura,” Niall said softly, cracking a weak smile when he saw Michael and Ashley watching the display of healing magic curiously. “Sorry for bursting in like this. I hope we didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Not at all,” Laura said warmly, her eyes softening when Luke disappeared momentarily to get some wipes so that he could clean the blood off the older man’s face. “We were actually talking about empaths so your arrival is quite appropriate.”

“I see,” Niall murmured, unsure of what to make of that. “Well, that is a topic I’m rather familiar with.”

“I’m sure you are,” Michael smiled but his expression saddened a little when Luke reappeared, starting to gently work away the dried blood streaking Niall’s pale skin. “Unfortunately, you turning up like this sort of proved a point we were just making.”

“About?” Luke asked curiously as he turned to face the others, his hand settling protectively on the older man’s shoulder.

“About how it’s not only Tenebran empaths who are treated badly,” Laura replied grimly, her expression disheartened as she took in Niall’s newly-healed face. “There seems to be this idea in Claritas that – because empaths are officially awarded equal rights and opportunities – they aren’t at a disadvantage but, in reality, that doesn’t seem to be the case at all.”

“I mean… you got hit for just walking down the street and minding your own business, right?” Luke pointed out, his brow creasing in distress. “That sounds just as dangerous as the outright distrust empaths experience in Tenebris.”

“Attacks aren’t exactly common here, especially so close to the capital,” Niall said softly, unable to meet their gazes when he could already feel their pity rippling on the air. “Most people just treat empaths with scorn instead, y’know? And that’s manageable. We’re used to it. _I’m_ used to it… but it would be nice to be able to talk to people without having to fight to be respected.” He sighed quietly as his fingers twisted together uncomfortably in his lap. “In that regard, I’m luckier than most. At least I have my healing abilities too... but it doesn’t make much difference in the end. If people don’t like me for something I can’t change, there’s no point trying to convince them I’m worth their time.”

“It’s a flaw in society,” Ashley said quietly, her words taking him pleasantly by surprise. “It’s so ingrained that empaths aren’t to be trusted – that they should be avoided or ignored whenever possible – that… that trying to break out of that mindset is actually incredibly difficult… but that doesn’t mean people shouldn’t push against those norms.”

“You’re right,” Michael said firmly. “Niall, you’re our friend but even _we_ need to get better at showing the world that empaths are just the same as everybody else.” He faltered suddenly, biting his lip as the guilt welled inside him, and Niall felt it on all sides as the others bristled uncomfortably too.

They seemed to realise that they hadn’t been treating him fairly and, although it was undeniably painful, he was glad they understood the truth now. He usually wasn’t included when the group decided to hang out and the fact that he’d been invited along to the party the other day was a huge deal to him because it was the first time they’d chosen to involve him in something like that.

Before Ashton had got hurt, Niall had barely been acknowledged by them, even despite living on the estate too. The only person who had been dependable in their shy smiles was Luke as he trailed after Ashton and Laura. He’d always had a soft spot for Niall and that had been evident even in those early days, when Niall had had no friends at all.

He was glad the others were beginning to accept him now though. It had taken the slow course of Ashton’s spine healing and Laura studying under him before he had been viewed as someone they might like to be more than acquaintances with but his patience had paid off in the end. He didn’t have to feel so bitterly alone anymore, and he’d never have the words to voice how grateful he was that they’d shucked societal norms and decided to give him a chance.

“Y’know, if we’re gonna be allies for empaths, we need to try harder… do _better_.” Michael’s expression rippled with determination, his cheeks flushing pink as Laura watched him fondly, her smile proud. “I have so many followers on my comms account – probably because people hope I’m gonna say something stupid that they can laugh at me for but… but damnit, I’m gonna start posting about this topic. There _needs_ to be a conversation about it. I mean, what fucking century are we in now?! Treating anyone like this isn’t okay, let alone the people on this planet who have to deal with the most shit – specifically, their own and everyone else’s too.”

“You feel very strongly about this,” Niall realised, eyes widening in surprise. Michael huffed out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he offered a half-hearted shrug.

“I just… I don’t like people being bullied,” he said quietly, his tone sincere. “There’s never an excuse for that.”

Niall felt a bit tearful as he processed the fact that his friends – real _friends_ – were genuinely this passionate about making the world a better place for him and everyone else with empathic abilities. A lump rose in his throat at the overwhelming fondness he could feel in the room and he sniffed, drying his eyes with his sleeve subtly.

“We’re going to have to love you and leave you now,” Luke declared, apparently able to sense that the older man was on the brink of losing it. He didn’t need empathic abilities to work that out either; just a kind heart. “C’mon, Ni. Think it’s time you saw the wonders of my beautiful bedroom.”

“He means ‘messy’,” Laura said helpfully from her blanket nest on the sofa, her gaze soft as she watched her brother taking Niall’s hand gently in his own. “But off you go, you two. Don’t let us stop you.”

Luke told her affectionately where she could shove her insinuations and Michael sniggered into his hands as Ashley rolled her eyes skyward. Laura just grinned, her fondness all too tangible in the air. Niall felt her joy resonating inside him when Luke's thumb rubbed soothingly over his knuckles and he gave the younger boy a watery smile, his heart too big for his chest.

Luke clicked the door shut softly behind them and Niall caught a brief glimpse of a blue bedspread, white floaty curtains, and a pile of folded laundry waiting to be put away before the younger boy appeared in front of him, his caramel curls soft as they fell across his forehead.

“You’re like sunshine,” Luke repeated, his voice little more than a whisper, and when he pressed the older man gently against the wall and kissed his worries away, Niall almost forgot he’d been hurt at all.

The younger boy had always had that effect on him though.

Luke was wonderful.

*

Calum hadn’t felt so drained in a long time.

The Boneflats Remembrance Day service had been gruelling that morning and trying to keep Ashton calm in front of thousands of unfriendly eyes had been no easy task, especially when they’d spotted the cruel signs in the crowd. Privately, the Prince thought those were what had pushed Ashton over the edge and sent his fire burning free, and he tensed as he recalled the blue flames licking dangerously at the older boy’s fingertips.

There was a burn on Calum’s palm now, small enough that he’d been able to hide it from the Crown Prince on the transport ride home, but it had been starting to sting over the last few hours. He knew it was his own fault too. Taking Ashton’s hand - even when it was wreathed in flames - had been instinctive and he had no one else to blame for his recklessness.

Perhaps this burn would serve as a reminder that Calum often had the propensity to act without considering the consequences… or maybe it would be just one more secret he kept from the boy he’d fallen in love with.

Unfortunately, the latter seemed a lot more likely because there was no way on all of Cerasus he’d share the fact that the Crown Prince had accidentally caused him pain. He couldn’t stand to see Ashton upset again.

A heavy sigh escaped him as he stood on the balcony, in his own apartment for once instead of Ashton’s. He liked the room he’d been given here a lot more than he did his own bedroom back in the citadel and he felt sad that he only had a week left here in this beautiful city, even if the mounting tensions _were_ taking the shine off things.

It was Ashton’s birthday tomorrow night and they’d planned a party for him which would hopefully make the Crown Prince feel more positive. He deserved to feel happy and that was what Calum wanted more than anything. He would’ve gone to ridiculous lengths to keep the smile shining on Ashton’s face.

He folded his arms loosely over the stone balustrade, gazing out over the dark gardens towards the distant twinkling lights of Aureum where they were visible through the toughened crystal walls of the palace.

Thinking about Ashton made him feel strangely safe and he let himself sink into that feeling, focusing on the older boy’s sparkling eyes and soft crimson curls, and the way his dimples creased his soft cheeks when he giggled. After a moment though, he remembered Ashton’s face flushed and wet with tears instead; remembered the horrible way his breath hitched when he was fighting sobs and how hurt he’d been the day of the second task when Calum had kept secrets from him.

He thought of his father’s threats and David’s ravenous desire for revenge, and how his grief for Thomas outshone every other aspect of his life. He remembered the lack of healers in the woods and the Lumen Centre bombing, and how the Purgatio had almost killed Ashton that night after the party, and how it all seemed far too neatly linked to be coincidence.

Quite suddenly, Calum wasn’t sure he felt safe after all.

He sighed even more heavily this time, the force of it sending him slumping forwards as he buried his head in the crook of his elbow.

“That was a big sigh,” Mali said from right behind him, startling him so much that his heart felt like it had stopped beating as he whirled to face her. “What’s up, peanut?”

“Apart from the heart attack you just gave me?” Calum gasped, still clutching his chest as his pulse slowly calmed. “Nothing at all.” He narrowed his eyes suddenly, taking in how shifty she looked as she held her hands behind her back, clearly trying to appear innocent. “How did you break into my room, smiley?”

She grinned, sweeping her dark hair out of her face with a lazy wave of her hand.

“Metal locks and metal abilities,” she listed, counting them on her fingers. “It’s like they _want_ me to get through locked doors.” She shrugged as her grin widened, her eyes sparkling in the shadows. “I’m glad you and Ashton weren’t up to anything in here though or this would’ve really backfired on me.”

They both paused to shudder delicately at the idea of Mali barging in on them and Calum pursed his lips, folding his arms across his chest as he leant back against the balustrade, shooting her a quizzical look.

“What’s wrong, smiley?” he asked softly. “You wouldn’t have come here this late otherwise.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see my baby brother,” she said pointedly, one eyebrow rising dangerously. “Is that a crime?”

“No,” Calum replied. “Not if you don’t have an ulterior motive.”

“Ouch. Harsh words,” Mali muttered before hesitating, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she took a hesitant step closer, coming to lean beside him. “Look, I… I don’t really know how to say this so I guess I’ll come right out with it: I know you’ve been hiding something, peanut. Something _big_.” Her brow creased when he looked away, refusing to meet her gaze. “I know you too well. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

Calum’s anxiety tightened like barbed wire around his chest and he pressed his lips together hard, remaining stubbornly silent. His glare was weak when Mali’s hands came to rest on his tensed shoulders, her expression surprisingly gentle.

“It’s something to do with dad, isn’t it?” she murmured, taking the fear rippling across his face as confirmation. “That conversation you had with Mikey on the plane - you know I wasn’t sleeping then, right? I heard what you said about dad wanting you to bring glory to Tenebris and… well, with the tournament being reinstated after the scrolls were mysteriously found so soon after uncle Tommy’s death… it all just feels a little too convenient to me, peanut. It sounds like dad’s trying to manipulate you into exacting his own revenge.”

“Mali,” Calum choked out, his dark eyes widening as the panic in his chest tightened. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Mike hasn’t realised the extent of it and… and I can’t have anyone finding out about this, okay? I _can’t_. I spoke to dad and he was willing to change the plan if I win the tournament but -”

“The plan?” Mali asked sharply, her eyes narrowing. “What _plan_ , Cal?”

A cool breeze picked up and her hair stirred on the wind as her grip tightened on his shoulders, preventing him from escaping.

“Dad… dad wanted me to kill Ashton to avenge uncle Tommy,” Calum admitted, his words a little strangled with how desperately he was fighting to keep his emotions in check. “He… he threatened me. I think he would’ve taken my magic if I didn’t agree but… but as soon as I met Ash, I knew I couldn’t go through with it.”

“So what now?” Mali asked weakly, her concern evident in her tone as a tear slipped down her brother’s cheek. “I know dad, peanut, and I can’t imagine he just dropped this and gave up.”

“He didn’t,” Calum said miserably, his hands shaking as they rose to wrap around Mali’s wrists, keeping her close to him. “He said he’s looking for other ways to get what he wants without involving me but… but no matter what, he won’t let Ashton survive this. There’s no chance of that at all.”

He let out a sob suddenly, the onslaught of emotions escaping him without his permission as he doubled over in her grip, crying too hard to remain upright. Mali pulled him into a tight hug, pressing her lips gently to his forehead as she stared down at him in dismay, clearly completely out of her depth.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Calum gasped out, his vision blurry with boiling tears. “It doesn’t matter whether I win the contest or not. Dad wants Ashton dead… and, deep down, I know he wants me to be the one to kill him. That was his plan from the beginning.”

The panic was crashing inside him with the force of a tsunami now, tearing apart all of the defences he’d built up over the years until he felt like a frightened child underneath, scraped raw and bloody as he trembled, too weak to fight anymore.

“You didn't actually consider killing Ashton though, did you?" Mali demanded, her tone nothing short of horrified. She wasn’t hugging him anymore and he shook his head wordlessly, the guilt inside roaring to life inside him when he recalled the first night he’d met Ashton at the Lumen Centre. Calum had done everything he could to antagonise the Crown Prince; to make him angry and hateful so that it would be easier when the time came to kill him and… fuck. _Fuck_.

Maybe Calum had been capable of committing such a terrible act since the beginning.

Maybe he was as twisted as his father after all.

“I just want dad to love me,” Calum sobbed out and he hated himself for letting those pathetic words escape; hated himself with a strength that crippled him as it choked the breath from his lungs.

Down in the gardens below them, Luke froze in horror as he stared up towards the balcony.

Calum’s words trickled through him like icy water dripping down his spine as he stood there helplessly, the wind ripping through the trees as the birds launched themselves up into the dark sky, screaming into the night.

Luke didn’t know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I can't wait to hear what you thought :)


	12. Racing Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm so sorry for the delay but thank you very much for your patience. I enjoyed writing this chapter - it's very much the calm before the storm so make of that what you will...  
> Also a **BIG** thank you to Laura because I couldn't have finished this chapter without her.  
> [This](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/221450506663314583/) is Ashton’s outfit at the party because he looks like a Disney Prince and I’m stupidly in love with him.  
> I hope you'll all enjoy this :)
> 
> Trigger warning for explicit sexual content.

**_Make my world go black._ **

**_Hit me like a heart attack._ **

**_Knock me flat on my back, yeah._ **

**_Just keep doing that,_ **

**_That thing you're doing there._ **

**_Brush me with your hair, I swear,_ **

**_I don't know how long that I can last._ **

**_Make my world go black._ **

_\- Black, Dierks Bentley_

 

“You’re _really_ not going to tell me why I need to dress up?” Ashton asked sourly, trying to keep the smile from touching his lips.

“Of course I’m not!” Laura declared, smirking wryly. “What kind of a surprise would it be if I gave you advanced warning?!”

They had this conversation every year so, at this point, Ashton could safely assume that a birthday party was inevitable. He liked to stick to their script though; liked watching Laura’s eyes sparkling with happiness as she tried to remain dignified; liked the way she wrestled him into whatever formalwear she deemed suitable while he pretended he didn’t know what was going on.

He welcomed the normality of their annual tradition and he could tell she did too, especially with how nerve-wracking the rest of their lives had become over the last few years, what with the Boneflats War and the Purgatio doing everything they could to terrify them into subservience.

“Y’know what? Take that jacket off. We’re changing it to a fancier one,” Laura announced, stirring him from his thoughts. She clapped her hands when he simply watched her in confusion, her eyes sparkling with fondness as he wriggled out of the faded denim and into the new garment she was proffering. “Gotta have you looking gorgeous for the press, haven’t we?”

He smiled wryly as he processed that, unsurprised that his birthday party this year would also be doubling as a publicity event for the second half of the Elevare. He understood the need to ensure that the Claritans remained interested in the tournament, especially since the champions would be flying out to Tenebris in a week, but he sort of wished it wasn’t necessary. His birthday parties had always been private occasions in the past – just his family and his closest friends – but he understood the need for change this year. He’d deal with it.

“So where _is_ the party this year?” he asked innocently as he adjusted the red velvet jacket he was wearing, making sure the collar sat right.

“It’s downstairs,” Laura said automatically before flushing the same shade of rose as the silk wrap she was wearing over her flowing black dress. “You’re so sneaky! It was meant to be a surprise.”

“You’ve never exactly been subtle,” Ashton pointed out, his tone undeniably fond. He cocked his head to one side curiously though, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “Normally the party is hosted somewhere else, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, well…” She sighed, shrugging uncomfortably. “After what happened at the Lumen Centre and the Caelum Assembly Building, it seemed safer not to risk it.”

Ashton accepted that with an uneasy sigh, biting his lip as he sank down heavily onto the edge of his bed. Laura closed the distance between them, her palm rising to cup his cheek fondly.

“How’re you doing, Ash?” she murmured, her blue eyes narrowing a little when he glanced at her sheepishly. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m… I’m doing okay,” he said honestly, giving a half-hearted shrug. “I’m getting there anyway.”

“You’ll be fine,” Laura said softly, flattening a crimson lock of hair gently as he looked up at her. Her smile grew when he stuck his tongue out and she laughed, poking him lightly on the nose. “Bit of glitter on that face of yours and I think you’re good to go, Ash.”

“You love your glitter,” he noted fondly, his hazel eyes falling shut in contentment when she stroked his cheekbone lightly with her thumb.

“I love _you_ ,” she corrected and, for a moment, it reminded him of those long dark evenings on the Boneflats, huddled up together in the shadows as they waited to see if they’d survive the night. That year had made them closer than they’d ever been and Ashton gripped her hand suddenly, overcome with fondness for her.

“I love you too,” he said lightly but, beneath his teasing tone, he meant it more than he could put into words. “No matter what.”

She tossed the pot of glitter in his direction on her way towards the door and he smirked, catching it reflexively.

“ _Red_ glitter?” he asked, grinning. “This is new.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “To go with your nails. Can’t have you clashing, can we?” She hesitated suddenly, smoothing her flowing black dress as she fixed him with a nervous look. “Red’s still your favourite colour, right?”

Ashton laughed, running his fingers through his scarlet hair ruefully.

“It most certainly is,” he agreed, eyes twinkling. “Why? Is red a theme this year?”

“Stop asking me questions!” Laura insisted, her painted lips curving into a smile. “I’ve told you too much as it is!”

*

Michael had spent a very enjoyable afternoon with Laura, Luke, and Niall. They’d been decorating the venue for Ashton’s birthday party and he surveyed the room proudly from his vantage point by the buffet table now, pleasantly surprised by how much fun it had been.

They were in one of the palatial estate’s larger rooms on the ground floor but it was almost unrecognisable now. The walls had been draped with flowing scarlet silk and lanterns had been scattered artfully around the room, the panes of glass rich reds, oranges, and yellows that created a beautiful glow. Music was playing from the speakers, and a space had been cleared amongst the tables and benches to make an impromptu dance floor for the guests.

“You guys really went above and beyond with the decorations,” Calum murmured from beside him, looking around appraisingly as Michael puffed out his chest, feeling very proud of himself. He was wearing a red silk shirt that made his skin shine the colour of pearls – at least, it did if Laura was to be believed – and Calum frowned as he glanced down at his own outfit, picking at his black shirt doubtfully as his gaze drifted over the roses blooming on the material.

“I don’t think I wore enough red,” Calum said, his brow creasing as he eased his fingers nervously through his dark curls. “The invite said to wear lots of red.”

“You look good, Cal,” Michael said honestly as he shrugged, green eyes sparkling. “Stop worrying so much.”

Luke was standing on the far side of the room now, his expression dark although Michael wasn’t sure why since the younger boy hadn’t appeared to feel particularly unhappy during the afternoon; just distracted and quiet. Mali and Ashley were fawning over him which seemed to be going some small way to cheering him up, and he perked up even more when Niall appeared, wrapping his arms warmly around the younger boy's waist as he dropped a kiss onto his caramel-coloured curls.

Fletcher and Anne had already settled themselves at a table nearby, and the rest of the seats were gradually being taken by acquaintances of Ashton’s who the Tenebrans had not yet been introduced to. The smiling faces of the guests were offset only by the press where they were lurking in one corner, clearly ready to photograph anyone who stepped through the doorway.

Calum bit his lip as he sidled a little closer to Michael, uncomfortable with the wary look Luke had just shot him after catching the Prince’s gaze. Clearly something was on Luke’s mind but, before Calum could properly consider what that might be, Ashton made his appearance.

Laura appeared first, pushing open the doors with flourish and stepping back to allow Sierra to enter before the Crown Prince ambled into the room, pretending to look surprised although it was clear by Laura’s fondly irritated look and his sniggering that he’d expected this all along.

The cameras began to flash and Calum’s jaw dropped as his gaze settled on Ashton, his dark eyes widening in awe at how incredible the older boy looked. Ashton’s red velvet jacket had jet black cuffs decorated with swirls of golden thread that matched the garment’s gleaming buttons. He wore a red and black leopard print shirt underneath, tight enough that it left very little of his muscular torso to the imagination, and Calum's mouth went dry just watching him as he took in the way the ripped black jeans clung to his thighs as his polished black combat boots caught the light.

He looked every inch a Crown Prince, even despite the fact that his ensemble was more casual than some of the outfits he generally wore to occasions such as this. He’d mixed a more militant style with the sort of high fashion usually better suited to Claritan formal occasions but somehow it actually _worked_ and… fuck, it suited him so perfectly.

Calum couldn’t wait to get him out of those clothes tonight.

“Close your mouth, Princess, or you'll catch flies,” Michael muttered, smirking visibly when the younger boy struggled to tear his gaze away from Ashton, his cheeks flushed. “Like the birthday boy’s outfit, do you?”

“I’d like him in anything,” Calum said faintly, blushing hotter when Michael chuckled in response.

“But you’d prefer him in nothing,” he said, patting his best friend on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Cal. I’m only judging you a tiny bit.”

“I've seen the way you look at Laura, Mikey,” Calum pointed out with a smirk. “You don't get to judge me at all.”

*

Luke had barely slept last night.

He’d tossed and turned for hours mulling over what he’d heard the Hood siblings discussing, and by the time dawn had arrived and the sky had begun to brighten, he’d been no clearer on what to do.

Even despite the fear he’d felt at hearing the Tenebran King’s plan, Calum had done nothing but take care of Ashton in the six months he’d been here. He’d saved the older boy’s life during the second task; had taken his hand on Boneflats Remembrance Day when the Crown Prince had been seconds away from bursting into flame during a broadcast; had made Ashton happier than Luke had _ever_ been able to do... but none of that meant anything if Calum cast that aside to curry favour with his father.

Luke’s eyes narrowed as he watched the pair across the room, his heart clenching unpleasantly in his chest. Calum’s arm was wrapped around Ashton’s waist now, his full lips brushing the older boy’s blushing cheek as the Crown Prince beamed, apparently uncaring of the cameras. Harry had just appeared from the throng of colourfully-dressed guests to wish the Claritan champion happy birthday and Luke felt a pang of fear when Calum’s palm settled on Ashton’s hip, casual and possessive.

“Lukey?” Niall murmured from the seat beside him, his expression rapidly growing concerned. “Darling, are you alright?”

Luke barely heard him. He was too caught up in the dismay he felt at King David's sinister plan and the appalling idea of Ashton being killed to avenge the death of a man the Crown Prince had never intended to hurt in the first place. Something kept him frozen in place though, too afraid of the potential repercussions to alert the authorities because… what if he’d misunderstood the situation? What if Calum and Mali really _were_ fighting to keep Ashton safe against the wishes of their father?

He didn’t want to jeopardise that because then… fuck, if anything _did_ happen to the Crown Prince, it would be all Luke’s fault. He would have scared away Ashton’s fiercest Tenebran protectors – the two people who knew King David better than anyone and would be best placed to predict his next moves – and Luke wasn’t sure he could live with the reality of having that much guilt on his conscience if the worst happened. He didn't want Ashton to get hurt again.

“Lukey, what’s going on?” Niall asked softly, not a demand but a plea. The table they were sitting at was unoccupied aside from them and the healer’s expression was troubled in the soft lighting. “You haven’t looked away from Ashton and Calum all night and… I don’t understand why.” He lowered his voice, his blue eyes beseeching as he reached to take the younger boy’s hand. “It’s not jealousy,” Niall said gently. “I can _feel_ that… so what’s going on? Why are you so upset?”

Luke held his gaze, his cheeks flushed as his eyes sparkled damply in the fiery glow of the lanterns.

“I went for a walk late last night and I… I heard something I shouldn’t have,” he breathed, his heart racing in his chest as he tightened his grip on the older man’s hand. “And now… now I’m scared someone I care about is going to get hurt.”

Niall was watching him uncertainly, growing rapidly concerned by how distressed the younger boy had grown as he fought against his tears. They both seemed to become aware of the cameras surrounding them at the same time and Niall frowned faintly as he rose from his seat, drawing Luke up with him.

“Let’s go and get some fresh air, darling,” the healer suggested gently, his palm settling soothingly on the younger boy’s shoulder as he began to guide Luke towards the exit. “We can talk outside.”

Laura caught up to them before they could make their escape, her face flushed from dancing and alcohol as she looked between the pair of them knowingly. Her rose silk wrap was sliding off one pale shoulder, her eyes glittering as she glanced over towards Michael where he was chatting to Calum and Mali. Luke tensed, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

“Not off to hide in another bathroom, are you?” Laura asked teasingly, just a little too drunk to notice the way her brother had bristled at the sight of the Tenebran Prince.

“Cut it out, tiny,” Luke muttered uneasily, his pale face pinched with stress. “I can’t do this now.”

Laura took a step back uncertainly, a frown growing on her face as she tucked a lock of hair shakily behind her ear.

“What's up with you today, lofty?” she demanded, her tone too soft to be angry. She just sounded hurt instead and Luke slumped where he was leaning heavily against Niall’s side. “You’ve been grumpy all day. Why are you in such a weird mood?”

“I… I can’t tell you,” Luke whispered, his chest tightening with panic as he considered what might happen to his sister if she let slip the things he’d overheard the Hood siblings discussing. He was sure David would be furious if he discovered that others knew of his dangerous plan and Luke couldn’t stand the idea of the King's reaction, especially if he harmed Laura in his anger.

She’d had to deal with enough crap from the press and the general public after she’d chosen to heal Ashton at the end of the Boneflats War in lieu of countless other soldiers. He wouldn't drop this unbearable weight on her too, no matter how much she begged him.

“More secrets?” Laura asked quietly, her voice almost lost beneath the music. “ _Seriously_ , Luke? That didn’t end so well last time.”

His hand slipped to cover his wrist unconsciously, despite the fact that there were no cuts hidden beneath his clothes, and he swallowed hard against the lump rising in his throat. The stinging pain he could feel in that moment had nothing to do with his old scars and everything to do with the guilt rippling through him.

“Not now,” Luke repeated, hating himself. He wanted to cry when he looked up in time to see Ashton and Michael approaching, both of them watching the Hemmings siblings warily as Laura stared at him with a wounded expression. Michael looked hurt when Luke took a sharp step back and Niall sighed softly at the Crown Prince’s narrowed hazel eyes as he watched his best friends unhappily.

“What’s going on here?” Ashton asked, biting his lip as Sierra appeared beside him, her gaze fixed on the photographers lingering nearby. “You guys aren’t having a good time?”

“We are,” Niall assured him in as warm a tone as possible. “Lukey here just needed some fresh air. We were about to slip out for a few minutes now.”

“Oh, okay,” Ashton said softly, glancing between the fair-haired siblings uncertainly as Michael reached for Laura, his arm winding comfortingly around her shoulders. “You better go then. Luke does look a bit flushed, now that you mention it.”

Luke blushed hotter under his gaze, his eyes welling with tears once more although he fought them down, refusing to dwell on Calum’s words when the subject of them was standing in front of him like this.

“You sure you’re okay, Luke?” Ashton asked quietly, his hazel eyes soft as his palm settled on the younger boy’s shoulder. “You know you can tell me if something’s wrong.”

“I know, Ash,” Luke breathed, leaning back into Niall’s warmth when the older man brushed his lips lightly against his caramel-coloured curls. His heart ached when he saw Calum making his way through the crowded room towards them and he looked up at Niall helplessly, his panicked eyes apparently betraying more than his words ever could.

“C’mon now, darling,” the older man murmured, his palm firm on the younger boy’s hip as he began to guide him away. He hesitated though, glancing back in time to see Calum wrapping the Crown Prince up warmly in his arms. “Sierra, could you spare a moment?” Niall asked on a whim, his tone quiet, his blue eyes faintly urgent. “We need a quick word with you.”

“Alright,” she said with a shrug, glancing around the room warily before she fell into step with them. “It’ll have to be quick though. I need to watch Ash. You know how easily he gets himself into trouble.” The joke fell flat and Sierra's eyes narrowed when Luke sniffled pitifully, still clinging to Niall's side. “Let’s go outside,” she said firmly.

It was cooler in the corridor, the music muted through the heavy closed doors. Luke’s hands were shaking and Sierra's concern seemed to be growing with every murmured reassurance Niall sent the younger boy.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she said quietly, her dark eyes nervous. Luke swallowed past the lump rising in his throat, grateful for the warmth of Niall’s hands in his as he drew strength from the older man.

“I… I overheard something last night,” Luke confessed, his voice weak in the dark corridor. “Someone was talking about an attempt being made on Ashton’s life.”

Sierra stiffened, her fists whitening with ice as her hands curled up tightly, her dark eyes widening.

“Who was it?” she asked sharply, her tone colder than usual in her alarm. “Luke, you _have_ to tell me who it was.”

“I… I don’t know,” he whispered, his heart speeding up when Niall glanced at him doubtfully, apparently aware that the younger boy was lying. “I couldn’t hear who said it but… I knew I needed to tell you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

The tears were prickling in his eyes again – partly fear for Ashton but also the guilt he could feel when Sierra calmed herself with a conscious effort, reaching to give his hand a squeeze – and Luke cringed when the first one rolled down his cheek, burning and shameful.

“You did the right thing, Luke,” Sierra said gently, her worried gaze flickering to Niall’s uncomfortable expression before she refocused on the younger boy as he hurried to dry his cheeks with his sleeve. “I’ll keep an even closer eye on Ash, okay? I'll talk to his parents about it. Just try not to worry too much, yeah? He's the Crown Prince. Unfortunately, this sort of thing kind of comes in the job description.”

“Thanks, Sierra,” Niall said quietly. “Better let you get back to Ash, yeah?”

She nodded silently, her lips pressed together anxiously for a moment before they parted around a quiet sigh at the younger boy’s exhausted face.

“I’ll do everything I can to keep Ash safe, Luke,” she reassured him softly. “That’s why I’m here.”

“You’re here for much more than that,” he interjected tearfully. “You’re our _friend_.”

Sierra looked touched as she headed back into the crowded room and Luke watched her go with a fond look on his face, relaxing a little as he processed the fact that she would now be working even harder to keep Ashton safe.

“What do you wanna do now, Lukey?” Niall asked softly, bumping the younger boy gently with his elbow. “Go back to the party?”

Luke turned in his arms, pressing a warm kiss to the older man's jaw.

“Not really, Ni,” he murmured, shooting him a watery smile. He blushed when Niall's lips lightly brushed his cheek, his blue eyes fluttering shut when the older man's hands came to settle comfortingly on his waist. “Actually, I think I wanna get you out of those fancy purple trousers,” he admitted, sighing contentedly when Niall's lips trailed teasingly across the sensitive skin of his throat.

“Oh yeah?” the older man murmured, his eyes sparkling. “Would that cheer you up?”

“Maybe,” Luke said, smiling sheepishly. “It's worth a shot.”

“Alright then, darling,” Niall agreed warmly, a grin tugging at his lips as he entwined their fingers. “Lead the way.”

*

After a couple of hours had slipped by, Ashton had grown more than a little tipsy. Everything was pleasantly fuzzy and he felt safe tucked beneath Calum’s arm, his head resting on the younger boy’s shoulder as he stole glimpses of him. The Crown Prince was doing his best to watch him subtly – enamoured with the sparkle of his dark eyes and the soft curve of his cheek whenever he smiled – but the younger boy looked so beautiful in the amber glow that Ashton couldn’t help staring.

“You alright down there, angel?” Calum murmured, his eyes crinkling fondly as he dropped a kiss onto the older boy’s nose. Ashton blushed, his red curls falling forwards messily as he let out a soft giggle, possibly drunker than he’d realised.

“You look really pretty like this, curly,” he mumbled in lieu of answering and Calum smiled, looking pleased with himself.

“So do you,” he said softly, his fingertips warm where they were lightly brushing the older boy’s cheek. “All that red glitter suits you.” His gaze drifted down to the tight-fitting shirt Ashton was wearing beneath the velvet jacket and his eyes darkened. “You look fucking incredible tonight, angel. So, _so_ gorgeous.”

Ashton drew him in for an enthusiastic kiss, his fingers winding clumsily through the younger boy's curls as Calum's lips parted with a gasp. The kiss deepened naturally and Ashton felt dizzy with how desperate he felt as he pressed closer, a needy sound escaping him when the younger boy’s palm settled warm on his leg. He shivered when Calum’s thumb slid teasingly over the sensitive skin of his thigh where his jeans were ripped and things were _just_ getting interesting when Sierra cleared her throat from nearby, startling them apart.

“Hey, you two,” she said quietly, a little embarrassed. “Maybe not here, yeah? Unfriendly eyes and all that…”

Sierra stepped in front of them protectively, squaring her shoulders against the camera flashes as Calum unwillingly drew away, flattening his hair with shaking hands. Ashton grimaced a little at the reminder of the press although, after the Prince’s declaration that night outside the Caelum Assembly Building, it was probably a little late for subtlety.

Ashton mumbled his assent and Sierra nodded silently, stepping back against the wall nearby as her eyes continued to drift over the guests. She looked uneasy and he might have been more worried about it if Calum hadn't chosen that moment to hook their ankles together beneath the table, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

It made Ashton want to kiss him again and, in his slightly inebriated state, he wasn’t sure he’d even care that everyone around him would be able to watch. He’d like that anyway, probably. He was _proud_ that he could make Calum look at him like that, so shamelessly lustful and desperate for more.

Ashton wanted more too. He had done ever since he’d walked in earlier and the Prince had gazed at him like he was the only other person in the room. He wanted Calum so much he was burning with it.

The party was still going on around them, the music loud over the sound of laughter and chinking glasses but, abruptly, Ashton had never cared about anything less than celebrating another stressful year of his life.

“Bored,” he declared, smiling widely.

“You’re bored?” Calum repeated, trying to frown although it didn’t really work when he was grinning like that. “But it’s your birthday party, angel.”

“And I’m bored,” Ashton said, shrugging half-heartedly. He shivered when Calum’s foot slipped a little higher, swallowing audibly as he forced himself to draw back, his expression faintly teasing. “Wanna help me celebrate upstairs instead?”

The Prince laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver of anticipation running through Ashton as he bit his lip, leaning closer.

“Maybe,” Calum said playfully, his eyes sparkling. “But if we leave now, I can’t eat any more of these fancy sweets. They don’t have these in Tenebris.”

“Then we’ll bring some with us,” Ashton replied, grabbing a handful of them there and then, and making Calum snort with laughter. “That way you’re not missing out.”

Calum’s expression softened suddenly and, for just a moment, his chocolate brown eyes shone a little too brightly, almost like they’d welled up with tears. He reached for the older boy’s hand and Ashton squeezed it comfortingly, his heart racing in his chest.

“I’m never missing out when I’m with you, angel,” Calum said quietly. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Ashton rose wordlessly, smiling past the dampness in his eyes as he circled the table to draw the younger boy closer. Calum's arm slipped around his waist, his lips brushing the Crown Prince's neck, and the contentedness that began to burn inside Ashton then felt like it would never go out.

“Hey, Fearless Protector,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over the music. “I’m gonna go to bed now, yeah? So you can have the rest of the night off.”

Sierra relaxed a little as some of the tension leaked out of her shoulders.

“Alright,” she said quietly, apparently too on edge for their silly nicknames tonight. “Look after him, Hood, okay? Don’t let him fall down any flights of stairs.”

“Hey!” Ashton protested weakly, adopting a wounded tone as he shoved the handful of sweets into his back pocket. “I’m not _that_ drunk!”

“If you say so,” Calum sniggered, his expression growing decidedly fond when the older boy entwined their fingers, towing him away through the crowd. The faces passed in a blur as Ashton sped up, almost tripping over himself in his haste to drag the younger boy somewhere more secluded. Calum followed him willingly enough, an indulgent smile on his face when the older boy finally stumbled out into the corridor, his expression jubilant in the moments before the Prince drew him in for a hot kiss.

“Bedroom, angel,” Calum murmured against his lips. “ _Now_.”

Ashton couldn’t get up the stairs fast enough, clumsy with lust and alcohol, and the love filling his chest like sunlight. Calum pushed him against the door once they reached his bedroom and it clicked shut behind them as the younger boy ducked his head to suck kisses into the warm skin of his throat. His tongue swiped out to soothe the sting of his teeth afterwards and Ashton might have been embarrassed of the whines escaping him if Calum hadn’t reached down to palm him through his jeans.

His free hand slipped round to squeeze the older boy’s arse but he paused unexpectedly and his sudden huff of laughter might have offended Ashton if he hadn’t realised what had struck the younger boy as so amusing.

“That’s the sweets in my pocket,” the Crown Prince said, his tone a little sour. “We should take them out probably… before they melt.”

“Good idea,” Calum said with a deliberately innocent smile. “Maybe we should eat those first, yeah? After all, you went to so much trouble to bring them with us.”

He sauntered away towards Ashton’s bed, a lazy grin tugging at his lips as he flopped down onto the mattress, one hand tucked behind his head. The older boy’s cheeks were flushed as he followed the Prince, his hazel eyes dark in the bright light of his bedroom as he came to a stop at the edge of the bed. The curtains leading out to the balcony were open tonight, the gardens cast in shade far below. If anyone was outside and happened to glance up, there was a chance they’d be able to see whatever was about to happen and Ashton pressed his lips together hard to keep his moan in as he processed that, his cock twitching in his jeans.

“Still holding out on me with those sweets?” Calum asked teasingly, his eyes sparkling when the older boy dropped them beside him shakily. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to share.” He unwrapped a chocolate carefully, holding Ashton’s gaze as he took it into his mouth with obvious satisfaction. His tongue darted out to swipe over his bottom lip, his mouth sweet with chocolate when he coaxed the older boy down for a brief kiss that made Ashton moan.

“You want a sweet too?” Calum asked softly, his teeth grazing the older boy’s skin when he ducked his head to mouth at his neck. Ashton shivered, a whine building in his throat when he felt the younger boy’s fingertips brushing over him playfully where he was trapped in his jeans. “You can if you’re a good boy, angel. You wanna be a good boy for me?”

“ _Please_ ,” Ashton groaned, his eyes fluttering shut when Calum’s hands slipped away again, leaving him achingly hard.

“Oh, you _do_?” the Prince asked, his eyes sparkling. “Take your clothes off for me then, angel, yeah? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Ashton took a clumsy step back, so desperate for Calum's touch and praise that he was shaking as the heat coiled in his stomach. He pushed the red velvet jacket off his shoulders carelessly, the garment tumbling onto the ground as his trembling fingers made slow work of the buttons on his tight shirt.

He liked the feeling of Calum's gaze on his skin and the world at his back, and he groaned when he noticed the younger boy's dark eyes tracing over him, taking in his panting breaths and the hard line of his cock in his torn jeans as he shuddered at the feeling of his own fingertips sliding across his stomach.

Ashton whimpered softly when he struggled out of his tight trousers, relishing the momentary friction when the denim dragged over where he was leaking in his boxers. He shivered when he removed his underwear too, goosebumps rising on his skin as he stood there in nothing at all, long fingers curled loosely around his hard cock, scarlet curls messy as he watched the younger boy with dark eyes, his cheeks burning.

“C’mere, angel,” Calum murmured, spreading his legs on the mattress so that there was space for the older boy to crawl closer. “Here’s your prize.” He swiped one of the chocolates off the bed with a smirk, his eyes sparkling as he fed Ashton the sweet off his fingertip, but he couldn't quite hold his groan in when he felt the older boy’s tongue hot against his skin.

Ashton hummed contentedly at the taste of the chocolate as he drew back although his eyes fluttered shut when he felt Calum's fingertips toying with the tip of his cock. He sank back onto the mattress easily when the Prince pushed him down to kiss him, their tongues stroking together, sweet as sugar. Calum’s muscles shifted under the older boy’s palms, his full lips soft as they trailed down Ashton’s throat, teasing and warm.

The Crown Prince whined when Calum began to roll his nipples lightly between his fingertips, his breathing growing ragged as the younger boy sucked hot enthusiastic kisses across his stomach. Ashton’s cock was hard enough that it was arching away from his body by now, flushed a pretty red that drew Calum’s gaze in the moments before he settled down to taste him.

Ashton moaned brokenly when the damp heat of Calum's mouth engulfed him, his back arching as the younger boy pressed his hips back down onto the mattress. He felt so exposed like this, his bare chest heaving as Calum – still fully dressed – worked on making him fall apart. It made Ashton’s eyes prickle with tears but he’d never been so turned on in his life.

He became aware slowly that he was crying, his flushed cheeks sticky with tears as his trembling fingers weaved through Calum's soft curls. The younger boy moaned when Ashton's grip tightened in his hair, the vibrations drawing a sob from the Crown Prince as the lust inside threatened to boil over.

Ashton raised his head with difficulty, moaning when he saw Calum’s head buried between his thighs, his lips stretched around the older boy’s cock. He shuddered at the feeling of Calum’s tongue swirling over him and his thighs began to shake as he slumped back down onto the mattress, his head still fuzzy with alcohol and lust.

“Want you to fuck me.” The words slipped out before Ashton had a chance to properly consider them and he flushed scarlet when he realised what he’d said. He groaned weakly at the loss of Calum’s mouth when the Prince drew back in shock, his jaw hanging slack as Ashton's cock fell to rest on his thigh, saliva-slick and leaking.

“What?” Calum blurted out before blushing, apparently embarrassed with himself. His hand shook a little when he reached to cradle the older boy’s cheek, his dark gaze surprisingly earnest as Ashton covered his eyes with his wrist, looking ashamed. “You’re drunk, angel,” he said softly, his thumb smoothing comfortingly over the fading scars on the older boy’s cheekbone. “I don’t think tonight is the best time. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

“I would not regret it!” Ashton grumbled but he was distracted when Calum stretched up to kiss him gently, a soft sigh slipping from the older boy’s lips as he slumped down onto the bed. “You don’t want me?” he asked softly, his hazel eyes sliding shut.

“I do!” Calum said earnestly, his teeth worrying at his lip. “More than you know, Ash, but I don’t wanna hurt you and… right now, I kind of feel too drunk as well, yeah?” He sighed, still looking uneasy although he relaxed when the older boy met his gaze uncertainly. “The first time we go all the way, I wanna be able to look after you properly, the way you deserve.” Calum’s expression became hesitant when Ashton seemed content to watch him owlishly and his chocolate brown eyes softened. “Have you even done that before, angel? Because _I_ haven’t... so I kind of want it to be special. I don't want us to rush it.”

“I haven’t done that either,” Ashton admitted, one hand sliding over his chest suddenly, like he felt self-conscious. Calum unbuttoned his own shirt with shaking fingers, leaning to drop a soft kiss onto the older boy's lips as he tossed the garment onto the floor. His jeans joined the rose-patterned shirt quickly and the Crown Prince relaxed visibly when Calum was finally naked too, his dark curls in disarray, his lips swollen from kissing.

“Love you,” Ashton offered shyly, shivering when Calum settled down warm in his arms, their bodies pressing comfortingly together.

“Love you too,” the younger boy murmured, pressing a kiss to the underside of Ashton’s jaw as his hand drifted to stroke the older boy’s cock where it was still resting against his thigh. Ashton shuddered, a soft whine escaping him when Calum began to suck a bruise into the sensitive skin of his throat. “I have another idea we can try,” the younger boy said quietly, his eyes twinkling. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Curly?” Ashton asked softly, his lip drawn between his teeth as his hazel eyes glinted. “What’re you gonna do to me?”

“Want me to finger you?” Calum asked, the words soft and fast, almost like he wanted to speak before he lost his nerve. He relaxed visibly when Ashton moaned, nodding his head jerkily, and Calum pressed his lips together to hide his relieved smile as he leant closer for a kiss. “You have any lube, Ash? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Yeah,” Ashton mumbled, blushing noticeably as he rolled over to grab it from the drawer in his bedside table. He rolled his eyes when Calum smirked at him, sticking his tongue out with what he probably hoped was great dignity as he settled back down against the pillows. His expression softened a little when the younger boy hesitated and Ashton’s lips quirked into a crooked smile. “I’ve tried this before myself; you know that, right? I was just… very bad at it.”

Calum laughed quietly, the sound sending Ashton’s heart racing in the quiet of his bedroom.

“You couldn’t find your sweet spot, angel?” he asked lightly, his playful tone making the older boy groan as his cock twitched against his stomach. Calum’s palm smoothed over it teasingly and Ashton gasped, already more turned on than he cared to admit.

“Didn’t have the chance,” he said breathlessly, whining when the younger boy’s thumb stroked over the tip of his cock. “Came the second I got my finger in…” The words embarrassed him but he kind of liked it, especially when Calum groaned in response and reached to fist himself, his dark gaze locked on Ashton’s flushed face.

“You’re so hot, angel,” the younger boy breathed, his chocolate brown eyes sparkling. “So, _so_ gorgeous. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Only yours,” Ashton promised, his eyes fluttering shut as he stretched up to kiss him. Some of the red glitter had found its way onto Calum’s face too and the older boy watched him fondly for a moment, at least until he heard the sound of the lube being uncapped and shivered with anticipation.

“Lie back, angel,” Calum murmured, one palm smoothing comfortingly over Ashton’s ribs. “Just relax, yeah? It’ll feel so good.”

“You promise?” the older boy asked softly, his voice surprisingly small. He shivered and Calum leant down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss, his expression nothing but fond.

“I promise,” he breathed against his lips. Calum deepened the kiss when he reached to stroke the older boy’s cock again, swallowing Ashton’s weak moans as their tongues stroked together. For a while, they stayed like that, only kissing as Calum fisted the older boy’s cock, his fingers rolling over the head teasingly with every jerk as Ashton’s lust burnt through him.

Calum waited until the Crown Prince was soft and pliant beneath him before he moved further, allowing one lube-slick finger to trail lightly over Ashton’s hole. He knew the older boy liked this; remembered it from the morning of the second task when he’d woken the older boy with a blow job and his fingertip had been the catalyst that made Ashton fall apart.

The older boy whined beneath him when Calum circled his hole gently, stroking over it as he tried to get him used to the sensation. Ashton was panting softly, his cock leaking over the younger boy’s fingers as he gazed up at the Prince in something like awe, his hazel eyes shining, his eyelashes spiky with tears. His full lips dropped open around a soft moan when Calum finally pushed his finger inside and Ashton shuddered, his eyelashes fanning out over his glittery cheekbones as he sucked in a ragged breath.

“Relax,” Calum cautioned him quietly, dropping his head to scatter kisses over the older boy’s throat as he allowed his finger to sink a little deeper. Ashton opened around him easily, the muscle stretching to accommodate him as he gasped out Calum’s name like a prayer, his head falling back against the pillows.

The slight burn Ashton had initially felt at the intrusion faded quickly and he moaned into the younger boy’s neck as his cock leaked at the feeling of Calum’s finger sliding deeper. The pleasure washing over Ashton was making him pant now and he was too far gone to be embarrassed by the broken sounds escaping him. His hips rocked back unconsciously as he searched desperately for more, a weak sob escaping him as his scarlet curls fell messily into his eyes. Calum stroked his hair back fondly, his chocolate brown eyes glinting when Ashton gasped suddenly, his back arching up off the mattress as the younger boy's fingertip brushed against something that made him see stars.

The Prince kept his fingertip stroking over the older boy’s prostate, the pleasure rendering Ashton speechless as Calum rocked slowly against his thigh, his soft cheeks flushed with colour as he hung his head for a moment, trying to calm his breathing. He was embarrassingly close to finishing just from watching the older boy’s lust rippling across his beautiful face and Calum moaned without meaning to when Ashton’s cock swelled in his fist, his balls drawing up tight to his body.

His muscles were fluttering around Calum’s finger with every thrust now, his thick thighs twitching as he threw his head back to reveal the love-bites the Prince had sucked into his throat. The red curls that Calum loved so much were fiery against the white pillows, his sparkling hazel eyes heavily-lidded as he gazed down at the younger boy with his lip held between his teeth in a useless attempt to keep quiet.

Pre-cum shot out over Ashton’s tense stomach muscles like pearls when Calum pressed a little harder against his prostate and the older boy let out a broken sob as he clenched down, his cheeks flaming at the tell-tale wet sound of Calum’s finger fucking into him. The mixture of vulnerability and pleasure bubbling in his stomach was enough to steal his breath away, and Ashton’s whimpers grew weak with lust when he felt the younger boy’s thumb working over the soft skin behind his balls.

Calum's hips were jerking as the heat settled in his thighs, his dark eyes damp with tears as he ducked his head to kiss the Crown Prince. He let his teeth graze over Ashton’s bottom lip before he sucked his tongue into his mouth and the older boy fell apart beneath him with a muffled cry, his hole clenching around Calum's finger as his cock twitched between the warmth of their bodies. His trembling fingers pressed bruises into Calum's shoulders when he held the younger boy closer, a groan escaping him when the Prince grinded down harder against his thigh, shooting cum over the warm skin as he shuddered at the pleasure coursing through him.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were their panting breaths and the distant bubble of the fish tank as the waters calmed in time with Calum's racing heart. Ashton looked stunned where he was lying against the younger boy’s chest, a little sticky and probably in desperate need of a shower although he seemed content to lie still for now. The Prince smoothed his palm down the older boy’s back gently, tracing the shape of his scar like a comfort blanket as Ashton relaxed against him with a soft sigh.

“Good?” Calum asked eventually, weary and content as he pressed his lips lightly against the Crown Prince’s forehead.

“ _So_ good,” Ashton mumbled sleepily, his mouth curving into a tired smile that made Calum’s heart melt in his chest. “I love you, curly,” the older boy added, his hazel eyes soft in the moments before they fluttered shut. “More than you know.”

“I love you too,” Calum said quietly, awestruck by the rush of emotion he could feel as he stared down at Ashton’s beautiful face in wonder. “Happy birthday, angel.”

Ashton let out a contented sigh as he snuggled closer, already more than half asleep, and Calum felt the moment his heart healed in his chest as he cradled the older boy safely in his arms.

He hoped he got to keep Ashton close like this for the rest of his life but, mostly, he prayed that this moment would last forever.

Calum never wanted tonight to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought <3  
> Also if you've never listened to the song "Black" from this chapter, you should definitely go do that. It's amazing.


	13. A Time For Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm really sorry for the wait but it's been a very busy month.  
> I really hope you'll all enjoy this chapter and thanks as always to the amazing Laura for motivating me/making me feel like my writing is worth a damn. She's my best friend on the planet.
> 
> Trigger warning for explicit sexual content, non-graphic reference to past child abuse, reference to anxiety/panic attacks, mention of non-graphic self-harm, injury/threat, and temporary character death.

**_The world was on fire and no one could save me but you._ **

**_It's strange what desire will make foolish people do._ **

**_I'd never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you._ **

**_I'd never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you._ **

_\- Wicked Game, Chris Isaak_

 

Luke woke up to sunlight dancing across his bare back. He must have forgotten to close the curtains before he’d fallen asleep last night and he cracked his tired eyes open with a weak frown, his cheek pressed to the pillows, one leg hooked over the duvet. There was a comforting warmth at his back and Luke glanced over his shoulder in surprise, his expression softening when he saw Niall’s sleeping face resting on the pillow behind him.

The events of yesterday night filtered back slowly and Luke bit his lip as he recalled precisely how Niall had cheered him up after their emotional conversation with Sierra: the older man’s lips trailing enticingly down his throat and the tender look in his beautiful eyes as he'd gone down on Luke, slow and deep, and so perfect that Luke had cried afterwards, too overcome with emotion.

Almost like he could sense the younger boy looking at him, Niall’s eyes flickered open, his lips tugging into a sleepy smile beneath his dark hair, still rumpled from Luke’s fingers tangling in it the night before.

“Morning, darling,” he mumbled, still more than half asleep. “Cuddle?”

“Sure,” Luke breathed, feeling strangely relieved as he rolled over to wrap his arms around the older man’s waist. Their legs tangled and the younger boy hummed contentedly, his eyes sliding shut as he tucked his head safely beneath Niall’s chin. The healer’s hands were soft when he began to rub Luke’s back gently and the younger boy relaxed, feeling the last of the lingering tension leave him as he relaxed against the sun-warmed sheets.

“So…” Niall drawled sleepily, his lips tugging into a grin that he pressed to Luke’s broad shoulder. “Last night was fun, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” the younger boy replied quietly, smiling sheepishly as he smoothed his palms absently over the warm skin of the older man’s ribs. “You… you don’t mind that I stayed over, Ni?” He bit his lip uncertainly, burrowing a little closer into the healer’s arms. “I don't want to overstay my welcome…”

“You’re _always_ welcome here, Lukey,” Niall said softly, his frown audible as he pressed a soft kiss to the younger boy’s forehead. “I’m not just saying that.”

Luke shrugged awkwardly, his cheeks heating as he turned away, hunching up under the blankets. He felt guilty for causing the concern he could hear in the older man’s voice and he tensed as he buried his face in the pillow, ashamed of himself.

“Hey, darling,” Niall murmured, his tone tentative as he reached to stroke the younger boy’s curls gently. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of his neck, lingering there as his lips curved into a crooked smile. “How about I _show_ you how much I like having you here?” he murmured suggestively and Luke blushed, glancing over his shoulder with his lip drawn between his teeth, his pretty eyes wide.

“What do you mean?” he breathed, making the older man smile as he leant forwards to press a kiss to the corner of Luke's mouth.

“Do you trust me?” Niall asked softly, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Yes…” Luke's voice trailed away when he felt the older man's lips brushing gentle kisses over his shoulders and he shivered, thrilled. “Always, Ni.”

“Good,” Niall murmured as he shifted closer, one arm winding securely around the younger boy’s waist. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Luke felt so safe and comfortable in the older man’s arms that it felt like second nature to relax completely against the healer’s chest, his hands curling in the sheets when he felt Niall’s fingertips toying with the head of his cock. Luke shuddered against him, a whine building in his throat when the older man’s free hand slipped up to play with his nipples.

His cock was already hardening and he moaned when Niall’s thumb smoothed over the slit, spreading the bead of pre-cum over the shaft as he finally curled his fingers around it. Luke’s hips jerked and his eyes fluttered shut, the lust tightening in his stomach as the older man sucked kisses to the back of his neck, his teeth lightly grazing the sensitive skin.

“You love this so much,” Niall breathed and it didn’t seem to be a question. Clearly he could feel the younger boy’s pleasure too and Luke moaned again as he processed just how connected they were. He’d never been this close to anyone in his life – either emotionally or physically – and his heart felt too big for his chest when the healer began to kiss his back, his lips trailing lower all the time as he fisted the younger boy’s cock.

“Got an idea,” Niall mumbled, pressing a kiss to the small of Luke’s back as his hands slid to the younger boy’s hips, making him whine softly at the loss of friction. “Still trust me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Luke gasped, his eyelashes spiky with tears as his cock leaked onto the sheets. “Yes, Ni, please, _please_ –”

“Onto your front then, darling,” Niall prompted gently, shuddering a little when Luke’s thigh brushed against where he was growing hard too. The younger boy settled down onto his stomach, whimpering at the friction of the sheets, and Niall groaned at the sight of all that pearly skin stretched out in front of him, just begging to be kissed.

“There we go,” he said softly, his voice a little breathless as he reached to palm himself, unable to wait any longer. He blushed when he heard the little whine that escaped Luke at the sight of him, his pretty eyes fixed owlishly on the older man as he stole glances over his broad shoulder. “You comfy, Lukey?”

“Yeah,” the younger boy breathed, his cheeks heating when Niall settled down between his thighs, nudging them gently apart. The older man was still fisting himself languidly and Luke bit his lip when he saw the pleasure saturating the healer’s expression, spreading his legs further as he watched Niall pleadingly. “Ni –”

“I know, darling,” the older man murmured, leaning forwards to press a lingering kiss to the soft curve of Luke’s arse as he clenched reflexively. “Just try to relax, yeah?” He smoothed the pad of his thumb gently over the younger boy’s tight pink hole and Luke let out a surprised moan, the sound muffled by the pillow he was hiding his face in. “I’m pretty sure you’ll like this… and if you don’t, I’ll just blow you like I did last night, yeah? You were definitely into that.”

He pressed a warm kiss to the inside of the younger boy’s thigh, his hot breath making Luke squirm as he rocked back against the teasing pressure of Niall’s thumb. It disappeared after a moment but, before he could do much more than whimper pitifully at the loss, he felt the unmistakable sensation of Niall’s tongue stroking hotly over his hole.

Luke jerked in shock, a shrill whine escaping him without his permission as he rocked back unconsciously against the older man’s face. His hands scrabbled in the sheets for purchase when Niall licked flat over him, his tongue swirling as he rubbed soothing patterns into the younger boy’s skin with his fingertips.

A tear rolled down Luke's overheated cheek when he felt the older man’s tongue circling his rim and he let out a low moan when Niall finally pressed it inside, fucking the tight ring of muscle languidly as Luke squirmed against him, overcome with the pleasure. The younger boy’s breath caught when Niall reached to roll his balls in his palm and Luke whimpered softly, thrusting his hips clumsily against the healer’s hand as Niall fisted himself.

He was already close to finishing, the lust burning in the pit of his stomach as he rimmed the younger boy, sucking at the soft skin before his tongue pressed hotly into his hole. Luke let out a choked whine, his muscles fluttering as Niall slowly licked in and out of him, his tongue flicking hotly against the sensitive skin as the heat in the younger boy’s stomach threatened to boil over.

The healer groaned when he reached for Luke’s cock and discovered how much he was leaking, and something about the younger boy’s wrecked moans as Niall spread the pre-cum around had the older man’s hips jerking as he fucked desperately into his own fist. The sounds pouring out of Luke were incredibly hot and Niall’s orgasm caught him by surprise. He moaned brokenly as he curled in on himself, spilling over his fingers and the sheets as the pleasure shuddered through him.

Niall came to with his cheek pressed to the younger boy’s thigh and Luke whining softly, grinding his cock down into the older man’s palm where it was still trapped beneath his body. His cheeks were flushed pink, his breath escaping him in panting gasps as he leaked over the older man’s fingers, his cheeks streaked with desperate tears. Niall crawled up his body slowly, relishing in the warm drag of skin as he reached down with his free hand, letting his fingertip catch in the younger boy’s hole.

Luke shuddered, moaning weakly as his hips rocked back, eager to get more of the older man inside him. Niall’s hand was still slick with cum so his finger pushed inside relatively easily, the hot clench of the younger boy’s muscles around him unbelievable as Luke rocked down against the mattress, whining at the friction against his cock.

Niall eased his trapped hand free, his fingertips damp with the younger boy’s pre-cum as Luke fell apart beneath him, sweaty and desperate as his toes curled at the pleasure, his soft hair sticking to his forehead. Niall wasn’t sure what possessed him in that moment but he raised his hand unconsciously, pressing his fingers gently between Luke’s kiss-bitten lips and making the younger boy moan desperately at the taste of himself.

Luke’s cock was swelling now, his balls drawn tight to his body as he shuddered beneath the warmth of the older man’s body. Niall pushed his finger a little deeper into Luke’s hole, curling it gently as he searched for the younger boy’s prostate. He knew he’d found it when every muscle in Luke’s body seemed to tighten, a muffled sound escaping him as he moaned brokenly around the older man’s fingers. Luke came with a broken sob, his blue gaze locked with Niall’s in the second before his eyes rolled shut as his climax crashed over him.

It seemed to take an age to pass, his body shuddering with the pleasure as he nestled there in Niall’s arms, comforted by the older man’s palms smoothing warmly over his heaving chest. Niall dropped a soft kiss onto his messy caramel-coloured curls, his tired eyes fond as he tangled their legs again, sleepy and comfortable.

“Good?” he asked hesitantly, his palm smoothing over the younger boy’s hip as his lips curved into a hopeful smile. Luke let out a soft laugh, more exhausted than he would have believed possible as he finally began to regain control of his breathing.

“Amazing,” he corrected wryly, stretching out contentedly in the rumpled sheets. “ _You’re_ amazing.”

“And you're beautiful,” Niall said softly, his expression warm as he gazed into the younger boy’s eyes, sharing the same pillow. “I don’t know how I ever got so lucky.”

Luke reached to stroke his cheek gently, the pad of his thumb smoothing over the older man’s cheekbone. The contentment he could feel in that moment was breath-taking and he knew it belonged to Niall too; knew it was just one more delicate emotion that they were lucky enough to share.

Luke was so grateful Niall felt comfortable enough to reveal the vulnerable parts of himself, especially after the countless times when the older man had been torn down simply for being who he was. The empath’s forehead came to rest against his and Luke’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt what Niall did for a moment: the overwhelming rush of affection, the feeling of safety wrapping around him like a blanket whenever they were together, and the underlying fear that it would all be torn away like a rug from beneath his feet if he let himself grow complacent.

There was an older fear too; a flicker of memory – the healer’s childhood bedroom and the peeling wallpaper pressing to his back; the grief and pain he felt from injuries sustained after another undeserved kick to the ribs for displaying the ‘wrong’ magical abilities – and the shame Niall felt now as he lurched back sharply, his eyes glistening as his cheeks flamed with blood. Clearly he hadn’t intended for the memory to slip through and Luke felt a lump rising in his throat as he drew the older man gently into his arms, tucking his face away into the comforting warmth of Niall’s neck.

“Sorry, Lukey,” the healer breathed, his voice thick with unshed tears as a tremor ran through him. “I didn’t mean you to see that. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologise,” Luke whispered, his eyes damp as he brushed his lips gently over Niall’s, his palms cradling the older man’s flushed cheeks. “I want to know you and I’m glad you’re showing yourself to me, even unconsciously.” He gave the healer a watery smile, his fingertips soft as he brushed Niall’s tears away. “It doesn’t matter how dark things get,” Luke whispered, his expression fiercely determined. “I’m not leaving you, Ni. Not for anything. You’re my _sunshine_ … and I love you, okay? I _love_ you. Your past isn’t going to change that.”

A breeze stirred the blankets surrounding them with the intensity of Luke’s emotions but his eyes were blazing with sincerity and it was clear he meant every word. Niall’s heart felt too big for his chest as he cuddled the younger boy closer, losing himself in Luke’s sparkling gaze and the scars on his wrists, and the soft sound he’d made right before they’d kissed each other for the first time.

The words were rising inside Niall like butterflies and he was powerless to hold them back. His tears boiled over when he met the younger boy’s watery gaze and the sob escaped him without his permission as his fingers smoothed comfortingly through Luke’s soft curls.

“I love you too, darling,” Niall admitted, his eyes fluttering shut when the younger boy leant closer to kiss him. “I love you _so_ much.”

Luke was jubilant as he snuggled closer into the older man’s arms, his expression so endearingly smug that Niall let out a relieved laugh, his eyes crinkling as he dried his face with the back of his hand. Luke stretched up to kiss him but he was smiling too hard for it to last very long and Niall’s happiness filled the room like sunlight.

“That wasn’t as scary as I thought it’d be,” Luke said suddenly, releasing a nervous giggle. “I’ve wanted to say that for ages.”

“I’m glad you decided to,” Niall said honestly, his expression softening. “I’ve wanted to tell you too.”

The sound of birdsong broke through the contented silence as they watched each other fondly and they glanced towards the balcony in surprise. Luke smiled broadly when he saw that they had an audience of pigeons sitting on the balustrade outside and Niall huffed out a quiet laugh, in awe of what a gentle soul the younger boy must have to make the birds feel so safe with him.

“I love you,” Niall repeated, his tone softer this time, the words little more than a breath. “More than words.”

Luke leant closer to press a soft kiss to the older man’s lips before he grimaced suddenly, glancing down at where the evidence of their pleasure was drying sticky and strange on his sweaty skin. Niall’s expression was decidedly fond as he helped the younger boy into a sitting position, his palm smoothing comfortingly down Luke’s ribs as he pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Why don’t you have a shower, darling?” he suggested sympathetically. “I can start on breakfast then, yeah? That way you won’t have to wait too long.” The younger boy considered this for a moment before his lips curved into a smile, his pale skin dappled in sunlight as he clambered out of the rumpled sheets. Niall watched him fondly, his heart beating calmly in his chest at how brazenly Luke allowed his love to fill the space between them.

The younger boy lingered in the doorway for a moment, his pale skin seeming to stretch on for miles as he ran a hand ruefully through his caramel-coloured curls, his expression soft.

“I love you,” he murmured, his tone dazed enough that he must have felt like he was dreaming. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying that.” He was smiling faintly as he turned away, already heading off in the direction of the bathroom, and Niall watched him leave with a lump in his throat for a moment, unable to comprehend that he’d been so lucky. “I won’t be long, Ni,” Luke called from the hallway, throwing a smile over his shoulder when he caught the older man watching him. “I’ll try not to flood your bathroom too. No promises though.”

“Of course not,” Niall mumbled, grinning faintly as he finally dragged himself from the warmth of his bed, heartened that life with Luke was never boring. The best part was that he knew the younger boy felt the same way; could _sense_ it in the sunny emotions currently emanating from the bathroom as Luke stepped under the shower spray, still smiling even now.

Niall had already loaded the washing machine with the bedsheets and started preparing fruit salad when the younger boy finally reappeared, padding into the kitchen in one of the healer’s old t-shirts and some long-forgotten gym shorts, his feet bare and his hair still damp from the shower.

“Hey, Ni,” Luke said cheerfully as he hopped up onto the counter, swinging his legs idly. “What’re you making?”

“Fruit salad,” Niall replied, his cheeks flushing a soft pink when the younger boy reached to stroke his dark hair away from his forehead. “You like fruit salad, right?”

“Yep,” Luke said, his blue eyes sparkling when Niall fed him a piece of strawberry. “Mum used to make me them for breakfast all the time when I was a kid. I wouldn’t eat fruit unless she arranged it in pretty patterns.”

“That… doesn’t actually surprise me at all,” Niall murmured as his lips tugged up into a grin. His words were gentle enough that they were almost lost beneath the music playing on the comms screen in the corner, and Luke’s expression softened as he took in the older man’s sleep rumpled hair and tired eyes.

He was only wearing boxers and, as he turned away to retrieve some fruit juice from the fridge, Luke’s gaze was drawn by the play of muscles in Niall’s back as he stretched. He wanted to reach for him; wanted to wrap his arms around the older man’s waist and kiss his shoulders but… something was niggling in the back of the younger boy’s mind, making his teeth sink into his bottom lip as a soft sigh escaped him.

“What’s wrong?” Niall asked quietly when he felt the flicker of sadness leeching some of Luke’s happiness away. “What’re you thinking, Lukey?”

“About last night,” the younger boy admitted, a faint frown creasing his brow as he slipped down off the counter. He couldn’t forget the way Niall had stuck by him when he’d got upset, especially when the older man must have known that Luke was lying to Sierra about not hearing exactly who’d been discussing an attempt being made on Ashton’s life. “Why didn’t you call me out on my bullshit yesterday? I know you know I lied.”

Niall looked uncomfortable, his shoulders tensing a little although he closed the distance between them quickly, his arms winding warmly around the younger boy’s waist.

“Because I could see how much you were hurting, darling,” he said softly, pressing a brief kiss to Luke’s frowning forehead. “Because you're a good person and I trust you to do the right thing… and if you think hiding the truth is the right thing… well, I’m by your side, Lukey. I believe in you.”

Luke hugged him tighter, tucking his face away into the older man’s neck. There were so many things he wanted to say in that moment but none of them felt like enough so he settled for drawing the healer into a kiss instead, his fingertips stroking warmly over the nape of Niall’s neck as the older man’s tongue slipped into his mouth.

“You taste like strawberries,” Niall breathed when they finally drew apart, his hands resting lightly on the younger boy’s hips as Luke leant back against the counter on his elbows, his eyes sparkling and satisfied.

“You’ll taste like them too now,” he pointed out, his lips tugging into a crooked smile. “You wanna kiss me again? No one can ever have just one strawberry, Ni.”

“That’s awfully bold of you,” Niall said, his expression brightening when Luke’s smile proved infectious. “I can’t deny you kisses though. What kind of boyfriend would I be then?”

Luke’s heart skipped a beat at the term but he smiled so brightly that his eyes crinkled as his arms wrapped firmly around the older man’s shoulders.

“Let’s not find out,” he murmured. “I like you best the way you are right now.”

“What? In my underwear making fruit salad?”

“Precisely,” Luke said with just a hint of sarcasm, rolling his eyes fondly. “Wouldn’t have you any other way, sunshine. In fact, if I started every day with you like this for the rest of my life, I’d be more than content.”

“Flatterer,” Niall said, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “Y’know, if you keep this up, you’re totally gonna get an extra present for your birthday soon.”

“I don’t want to wait 'til my birthday,” Luke joked in a sulky tone, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he pouted at the older man. “Are you sure you don’t want to give me my presents now?”

“Very sure,” Niall said solemnly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. His hands were still resting on the younger boy’s hips but, somehow, they had slipped beneath the fabric of Luke's t-shirt without him noticing and Niall's thumbs were rubbing comforting patterns into the warm skin now, his head cocked to one side curiously.

“Are you hungry yet, darling?” he asked softly, his pretty eyes glittering in the morning light. A blush heated Luke’s cheeks when he shivered at the feeling of Niall touching his skin, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

“Not really,” he said, trying to keep his anticipation hidden. “Why? Did you have something else in mind?”

“Yeah,” Niall admitted, leaning closer to suck an open-mouthed kiss to the younger boy’s throat as Luke whimpered, his knees weakening beneath him. “Think breakfast can wait, Lukey. Wanna taste you again.”

Luke moaned softly at the sight of Niall sinking down onto his knees, his eyes fluttering shut when the older man reached to knead his pale thighs, just gently enough that he wouldn’t bruise the skin. Luke moaned louder when he felt Niall licking at him through the shorts, his tongue dragging teasingly over his hardening cock where it was trapped behind the damp material.

Niall eased the shorts down carefully, wasting no time in wrapping his lips sinfully around Luke’s achingly hard cock. The younger boy’s hips jerked and he whined at how sensitive he felt when the older man sucked at the tip, his fingers twisting through the healer’s dark hair as Niall gazed up at him, their sky blue eyes meeting.

The love they shared blazed like the sun and Luke felt the last of his worries leave him entirely when Niall took him deeper, his long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes slid shut, his cheeks hollowed around the younger boy’s cock.

Being intimate with Niall left no room for fear at all.

Luke wanted this for the rest of his life.

*

Laura couldn’t keep herself from smiling as she stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight. It was a warm bright day – perfect for her little brother’s birthday – and the happiness she could feel was reflected back at her on the faces of her friends as they milled around outside the palatial estate. They’d agreed to meet at four o’clock and she’d spent the afternoon getting ready, teasing her blonde hair into loose curls and painting her nails a pale lavender to match the flowers decorating the short floaty skirt she’d chosen.

She felt less confident about the top Mali and Ashley had helped her pick out. It was one that had been hidden in the back of her wardrobe since before the Boneflats War and she was a little nervous about how low-cut it was as she stepped out onto the lawn, the silver sequins on her blouse gleaming like burnished metal in the sunlight.

A sorry attempt at a wolf whistle caught her attention and she giggled when she saw Michael waiting for her on a patch of grass he’d claimed nearby, his legs sprawled out in the long black shorts he was wearing, his elbows resting on his folded leather jacket as he watched her appreciatively. The two transports they would be travelling in hadn’t arrived yet so Laura felt no qualms in closing the distance between them, her eyes sparkling as she settled down on the ground beside him, being careful not to crease her skirt.

“You look even prettier than usual, petal,” Michael announced by way of greeting, his cherry-red lips curving into a smile when she blushed, dropping her gaze to the daisies she was coaxing from the earth between them. “I really like your top. It suits you.”

She glanced up to thank him, blushing hotter when she saw him dragging his gaze swiftly back to her face.

“Are you just looking at my sequins again, sparky?” she asked innocently, taking great delight in the way he flushed scarlet at being caught out. He seemed to be growing more confident though and she liked to see that. The careful reservation he often tried (and usually failed) to hide behind during formal occasions was absent today and it felt good to watch the unfiltered joy saturating his expression, like maybe he finally believed in himself enough to accept that Laura truly did love him.

“What colour are your sparks?” she asked gently, taking pity on him when he squirmed a little bit under her gaze, apparently unused to having someone he cared about watching him so admiringly. He twisted his fingers through the air in response, trailing pink sparks that fizzled out long before they hit the ground.

“I’m glad you’re happy, Mikey,” she said softly when he calmed a little at the burn of magic. The sound of crunching gravel distracted her and she looked up curiously as two transports approached through the checkpoint, the vehicles polished to a gleam in the setting sun. “Must be four o’clock,” she said quietly, leaning against his shoulder for a moment as he absently stroked her hair. “Better get the others ready to leave. You know what they’re like.”

She shrugged into the cardigan she’d brought with her as she headed across the lawn towards her brother and Michael watched her go fondly, his emerald eyes soft as he brushed the dried blades of grass off his shorts, finally climbing to his feet.

Mali and Ashley already seemed to have claimed one of the transports, and Michael’s amusement grew when he saw Calum towing Ashton towards them excitedly with their fingers tangled, looking happier than he had done in weeks. Sierra was following them with an indulgent smile on her face but Michael’s own grin faded a little when he saw how wary Luke's expression was as he watched the Tenebran Prince, his blue eyes narrowing from where he was standing between Laura and Niall.

Thinking back to how upset the younger Hemmings sibling had become at Ashton’s birthday party before, Michael felt something cold unfurling in his stomach. He didn’t like conflict or tension; didn’t like the fact that some silent force was driving his friends apart when, before, they’d been closer than anything.

He hated the wedge forming between them with a passion and the intensity of his emotions were enough that Niall glanced over in surprised sympathy, kind enough not to call him out for his unexpected resentment in front of the others. It seemed that the Hood siblings, Ashton, and the two bodyguards had already agreed to travel together, and Michael frowned as he turned away, comforted with the fact that at least he could ride with Laura in the transport.

She beckoned him over from where she was waiting beside the second vehicle, her expression softening as he loped over to her, feeling a little of his tension bleed away. Luke had already climbed inside and she patted Michael’s elbow gently, stretching up to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“In you go, sparky,” she said softly. “I’ll be right there.”

Laura waited until he’d followed Luke into the confines of the transport before she turned away, catching the quizzical expression on Niall’s face as he watched her. The breeze was tousling his dark hair and he looked calm as he stood there, his hands buried in the pockets of the blue jeans he was wearing, the hint of a bruise visible behind his collar that Luke must have sucked into his skin.

She wanted to be embarrassed that she'd spotted it but mostly she was just happy that her little brother had finally found someone he felt so comfortable around. It was wonderful to see him so relaxed and happy, and she hoped those emotions stayed with him, not just for his birthday trip today but for as long as possible.

If anyone deserved happiness, it was Luke, especially after everything he’d suffered through.

“You okay, Laura?” Niall asked gently, keeping his voice low enough that the boys in the transport would be unable to hear them. Laura gave his hand a brief squeeze, her gratitude clear if the way he smiled softly was any indication.

“I just wanted to say something to you quickly,” she murmured, her eyes flickering through the tinted windows to where Luke and Michael were chattering away inside. “I don’t know how you managed it but… you’ve made my little brother happy again.” Laura felt her eyes growing damp but the smile on her face refused to fade. “Thank you, Niall. I’ll never be able to tell you how much that means to me.”

“I’d do anything for him,” Niall said softly and he didn’t seem to be exaggerating. “He knows that. Now you do too.”

“Thank you,” she repeated, her tone sincere. “If I can ever repay you, Niall, then make sure you come to me, okay? I really mean that.”

“Of course,” he said warmly, his expression decidedly fond. “Guess we better get going then, right? Can’t leave the birthday boy waiting.” Luke perked up at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice and Laura smiled as she climbed up into the transport, accepting Michael’s outstretched hand gratefully as she flopped down onto the seat beside him.

“Hey, sparky,” she said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You okay?”

Michael nodded, leaning his head on her shoulder once they were safely buckled in. The transport came to life beneath them and Laura entwined their fingers more securely as the vehicles manoeuvred their way out of the estate and on to the streets of Aureum outside.

Luke and Niall were sitting opposite them, their heads resting together and their eyes shut. At first glance, Laura might have thought the pair had fallen asleep, except for the way their expressions occasionally became focused before smiles crept across their lips. Clearly they had found some secret way to communicate using Niall’s empathic abilities and her face softened as she watched them, taking in how absolutely relaxed Luke looked with his head tucked into the warm curve of his boyfriend’s neck.

It was unbearably precious watching how lost in each other they were, and the bonus was that it gave her and Michael some private time too.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” Laura admitted quietly when she felt Michael’s emerald gaze flickering to her face. “I think you’ll really like Flos Bay, Mikey. I’m excited to show you it.”

“I’m excited to see it,” he replied, a pretty blush heating his cheeks when he took in the fondness in her eyes. “What’s it like there? Do you visit often?”

“Not really anymore,” Laura said with a note of wistfulness in her voice. “We used to visit a lot as kids though; Ashton too. it’s a really pretty flowery little coastal town, only about half an hour away. We used to spend our summers there.” She bit her lip as they left the tree-lined roads near the estate behind, moving to join the heavier flow of traffic escaping the city. It still felt a little strange to be leaving the protection of the palace and its forcefields behind but the logistics of Luke’s birthday trip had been discussed at length, and their parents and the royal council had both agreed that Flos Bay was such an obscure place – still relatively unknown to the masses – that there was little risk of the Purgatio targeting the area in an attempt to harm the royal guests. Besides, their two bodyguards would be present and none of them were exactly defenceless with the strength of their magical abilities.

Laura was sure they’d all be fine.

“Flos Bay was Luke’s favourite place growing up,” she added in a softer voice, a little flustered with how warmly Michael was gazing at her as he waited for her to continue speaking. “When he was a little boy, he used to beg mum and dad to take us there in the evenings, so he could watch the stars come out. He loved the sea birds and the fresh air, and how open it was because that meant he could use his wind powers for fun, without having to worry about damaging anything. It was the only place he could really let go and unleash his magic… and I guess everyone needs that sometimes, don’t they? That… release. He doesn’t love Flos Bay any less now that he’s older. Maybe he’ll never stop.”

“That’s a good thing though,” Michael pointed out gently, his eyes kind. “Everyone needs to be a little kid sometimes. Everyone needs a place where they can let go… and it just so happens that _you’re_ that place for me, petal.” He smiled, a little embarrassed although his expression softened when her eyes welled with tears. “Almost every time I’m with you, you make my sparks pink,” he reminded her, his voice little more than a breath. “No one else has ever been able to do that. No one else makes me feel the way you do.”

A lump had risen in her throat as he spoke but she swallowed past it with difficulty, her scarred hand rising to cradle his cheek. Her long blonde curls were doing an excellent job of hiding the flush that had grown on her pale skin when she’d tried to keep herself from crying but Michael’s expression was knowing as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, ducking his head to brush a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“I love you,” she whispered, feeling overwhelmed with how deeply the words resonated inside her.

“I love you too,” he replied, his lips curving into a smile. “Always.”

The sun was setting through the windows and Michael’s thumb was stroking comfortingly over the burns on her knuckles, and she adored him so much in that moment that she could almost see it, shimmering like glitter in the air around them, painting the whole world golden.

The minutes drifted by in comfortable silence as they watched the passing landscape outside, Michael gazing longingly out of the window as more of Claritas was revealed to him. His pretty eyes were wide with wonder, his sandy hair floppy where it was falling down across his forehead.

“It’s so beautiful here,” he said quietly, awestruck. After a moment, his face fell and his shoulders slumped with melancholy. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

Laura sighed softly, her heart aching in her chest as she stretched up to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave either.”

*

Luke felt like he could walk on air by the time they finally arrived in Flos Bay.

The sky was a beautiful lavender overhead and he felt closer to Niall than he ever had as the healer helped him down out of the transport with a hand settled warmly on his waist. They’d discovered over the last week just how easy it was for them to share memories and thoughts due to Niall’s empathic abilities and their emotional bond, and this discovery had been put to good use.

They’d spent the journey trading happy moments from their childhoods; the first time Niall had discovered he could heal someone when a classmate fell on the playground or one of Luke’s haziest memories back when he was little more than a toddler, waving his tiny fists ecstatically when every bird in the park had flocked over enthusiastically to greet him.

It had been peaceful and undeniably enjoyable, and Luke felt so lucky that Fate had seen fit to send Niall his way. He only hoped he wouldn’t be asked to sacrifice anything in return for the prize of keeping such a wonderful man in his life.

His gaze drifted over his friends as they milled around outside the transports, his heart softening as he realised just how little time they had left to spend together in Claritas. He was determined to make the most of every second and he could see that reflected back at them in their faces too; that deep _need_ to have a good time and make precious memories that they could cherish after the Elevare was over.

Even his wariness of the Hood siblings after their frightening conversation had faded tonight. It was too hard to feel fear and nervousness surrounded by such beautiful scenery, and Luke didn’t try to draw those dark emotions back. They were draining and painful, and he didn’t want to feel unhappy today. It was his birthday and he was in his favourite place in the world, surrounded by some of his very favourite people, and that was all that mattered.

There would be a time for fear later but, right now, Luke wanted to be happy.

Laura had just tucked a daisy gently into his curls while Michael loudly proclaimed that it should have been a buttercup, and Niall’s arm was wrapped warmly around his waist as Sierra hovered nearby, her expression fond but a little distracted as her dark eyes scanned their surroundings, making sure they were safe. Mali and Ashley had just appeared to fawn over the star-patterned shirt Luke was wearing tucked into some tight red trousers that Niall had helped him pick out, and even Calum’s face looked soft beneath the dying sunlight as he hooked his chin over Ashton’s shoulder, shooting the younger Hemmings sibling a tentative smile.

The Tenebran Prince didn’t look frightening at all tonight and Luke wondered once more if perhaps he’d heard the conversation out of context, misunderstanding whatever the Hood children had been discussing. It seemed increasingly unlikely that Calum would wish to cause Ashton harm, even if his father _was_ trying to blackmail him into acting, and Luke’s heart squeezed in his chest when he hesitantly returned the smile, his grip tightening around Niall’s hand.

“Why don’t we go and find our spot, lofty?” Laura suggested, her long hair fluttering in the breeze as her brother leant into his boyfriend’s warmth. “Better show the others the wonders of Flos Bay, yeah? Can’t have them thinking its anything less than beautiful.”

“Good plan,” Luke agreed, smiling faintly as he grabbed one of the rugs from the transport. Mali was carrying another and the Princes had both opted to carry the baskets they’d brought containing snacks to eat around the bonfire. Luke’s excitement only grew as the procession followed Laura through the long grass, their soft chatter filling the evening air as fireflies flitted through the treetops and the first birds fluttered down to greet Luke.

Niall was smiling beside him, his blue gaze twinkling as he looked down at the floor, blushing a little. It was evident in that moment just how much being included meant to the empath; he’d deserved their friendship and kindness all along, and Luke was so glad they’d finally reached this point, even if his boyfriend _did_ look overwhelmed. Niall’s eyes were shining just a little too wetly as he picked his way through the grass, the smile fighting its way across his lips no matter how hard he tried to suppress it.

Luke was glad Niall’s happiness shone too brightly to stay hidden. His smile was beautiful and Luke wanted to look at it every day for as long as possible. He hoped it never faded.

They reached their desired spot on the clifftop without him noticing and he dragged his gaze away from Niall with difficulty in order to appreciate it, feeling the familiar warmth in his chest as he gazed around at his favourite place on all of Cerasus. They were high up here, the wind tousling their clothes and hair as the waves crashed against the cliffs far below them, reflecting the stunning purple hue of the sky.

The air was fresh and a little cool, and Ashton knelt down to light the fire for them without prompting, looking delighted with himself as the blue flames curled around the wood already piled there, left over from the last people who had camped in this beautiful area. The fire warmed them quickly as they spread the rugs out on the grass and Luke couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he settled down beside Niall, snuggling into his side as Sierra and Ashley did a quick sweep of the surrounding grassland covering the clifftop, making sure they were alone.

The forest they’d had to pass through in order to reach this point seemed far away now but Luke could still see the glow of the fireflies if he squinted, flickering like Michael’s sparks as they went about their business. The atmosphere felt safe and comfortable around them, and Luke’s heart felt too big for his chest as he stretched out contentedly, enjoying the music playing from Mali’s comm and the way Ashton was giggling at whatever ridiculous joke Calum had told.

Laura was growing more pretty flowers for her brother’s hair and tucking them lovingly between his caramel-coloured locks, her smile growing with every ridiculously ornate bloom Niall requested. Luke’s cheeks hurt from smiling so widely but there was nothing he could do to hide his joy. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this happy but he was sure it must have been years ago. It seemed that the world shone in different colours with Niall by his side.

As the evening went on, they stargazed and chatted, sharing the chocolate and fruit out, and growing increasingly giggly with every sip of alcohol stolen from the flasks Mali had sourced. Luke’s head was resting on Niall’s thigh, the healer’s fingers carding tenderly through his curls as the younger boy gazed up at him, starry-eyed with love.

Luke had never felt safer and his anxiety was almost gone tonight, little more than a shadow as he celebrated his birthday with his closest friends, far away from the palace and everyone who might wish to harm the people he cared about.

Tonight, Luke felt like he could relax and finally move on from all of the demons he’d fought over the last year.

Tonight, Luke could breathe easily.

*

It was fully dark by the time Ashton finally led Calum away from the bonfire.

The Prince followed him willingly, his dark curls tousled in the breeze as Ashton smiled at him over his shoulder, apparently keen to show off more of the place he had spent so much time as a child. He drew Calum into a beautiful forest glade a short distance from their friends, gesturing with flourish to the bats flitting through the treetops overhead as the carpet of wildflowers swayed beneath their feet.

“We used to play hide and seek here when we were tiny,” Ashton said softly, his tone fond as he gazed at the silvery trunks stretching up into the night sky around them. The amber flicker of the firelight seemed distant from here and Calum held his hand tighter unthinkingly. “Where did you like to play when you were a kid? The grounds of the citadel or…?”

“No,” Calum said quietly, his lips curving into a tired smile. “I preferred the lakes in Effervo. I used to spend every minute I could playing in the water there. It’s how I honed my abilities so much.”

“I bet you were the cutest kid, curly.” Ashton grinned as he ambled a little closer, his arms slipping warmly around the younger boy’s waist. “You have those big brown puppy dog eyes. I bet no one could ever refuse you anything.”

Calum huffed out a laugh, resting his chin on the older boy’s head as he cuddled the Crown Prince closer.

“Nonsense. You were definitely more adorable than I was,” he said knowledgeably. “You have those pretty ringlets. Bet you looked like a little cherub or something.”

Ashton snorted with laughter, his hazel eyes crinkling as he giggled into Calum’s neck.

“Not a chance!” he retorted with obvious delight. “I was a pain in the arse actually. I kept setting things on fire for fun.”

Calum grinned, his hand rising to cradle the older boy’s jaw as he ducked down to kiss him.

“I can well believe that,” he murmured, his heart melting a little when he felt Ashton smiling against his lips. “You’re still a pain in the arse now.”

“Hey!” the older boy protested, not even trying to suppress his grin as another giggle escaped him. “You _love_ my arse.”

“Yeah, I do,” Calum smirked, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling when Ashton reached for his hand, tangling their fingers together firmly. There were fireflies filling the air around them now and their glow was reflected back at the Prince in Ashton’s gaze, his beautiful hazel eyes sparkling as he raised Calum’s hand in both of his own, pressing a soft kiss to the knuckles. His thumbs smoothed over the younger boy’s palm comfortingly before he frowned suddenly, presumably noticing the smooth patch of skin where Calum had been burnt on Boneflats Remembrance Day for the first time.

Ashton turned the younger boy’s hand over hesitantly, his frown deepening as he peered down at the damaged skin through the darkness. It had long-since healed up but he recognised the burn for what it was instantly, especially after all the time he’d spent hating himself over the scars he’d inflicted on Laura.

“Cal…” His voice trailed away as he looked up at the younger boy, taking in the tightening around the Prince’s dark eyes as he pressed his lips together unhappily. The dread dawned in Ashton slowly as his thumb smoothed over the burn once more, his eyes prickling with tears as he took a faltering step back, Calum’s hand falling down limply between them. “Was… was that me?”

The younger boy’s shoulders slumped, a lump rising in his throat as the fireflies flitted away, leaving them in shadow. He didn’t want to tell the Crown Prince the truth; wanted to make up some story that might lessen the self-loathing and horror saturating the older boy’s expression but… fuck, Calum loved Ashton far too much to lie to him.

“It was Remembrance Day but… I know you didn’t mean to, Ash,” he said softly, hating himself as he watched the pain flooding the older boy’s paling face. “It was more my fault than yours. I… I was reckless.” Calum hung his head, ashamed of himself as his fingertips twitched towards his thigh, muscle memory after so many occasions where he’d punished himself in the past. “I wanted to hold your hand. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes, I did,” Ashton said faintly, his hands trembling at his sides as a tear slipped down his cheek. “I lost control of myself. I _hurt_ you.”

“Angel, no -” Calum argued weakly but it was already too late. Ashton was walking away from him, his shoulders tense and his expression nothing short of frantic, almost as though he was afraid he might burst into flames in that very moment and burn the Prince to ash.

Standing there alone in the trees, Calum felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he watched Ashton’s retreating figure. His strides were leading him closer to the cliff edge than the younger boy would have liked and that concern for the Crown Prince’s wellbeing was what burnt through the dazed horror settling over Calum like a fog. He chased after Ashton automatically, relieved that the older boy was heading towards the treeline rather than the bonfire because at least that way no one needed to witness this.

The wind was picking up, the long grass swaying towards the edge of the cliff as the Crown Prince stumbled through the shadows, drying his eyes with the back of his hand. He’d fall if he wasn’t careful and the realisation sent Calum’s heart pounding too fast in his chest as he sped up, racing to close the distance between them.

“Ashton, you get back here right this second!” he called, his tone so commanding that the older boy’s step faltered automatically as he glanced back in shock. Calum’s cheeks heated a little at the Crown Prince’s reaction as he jogged the last few steps, his palms coming to settle protectively on Ashton’s shoulders as he panted, getting his breath back.

“Don’t run away from me like that,” Calum pleaded in a softer voice, reaching to thumb the older boy’s tears away gently. “Please, Ash. I need you.”

“I hurt you,” he breathed, still looking nothing short of agonised. “I _hurt_ you, Cal.”

“I’ve hurt you too,” Calum pointed out, his mouth tugging down at the corners as the guilt inside reared its ugly head. Ashton was watching him in confusion now and the Prince grasped that hesitation like the lifeline it was, determined to make the older boy see sense. “Don’t you remember the first task, angel? I knocked you down a hill with, like, a _ridiculous_ amount of water… and that totally screwed your back up, right? But you didn’t hate me for it, did you?”

“Of course not,” Ashton said weakly, his lips parting as he peered up at the younger boy helplessly. “You weren’t trying to hurt me -”

“Exactly, angel,” Calum said softly, his thumb stroking the scars on the older boy’s cheekbone gently. “You weren’t trying to hurt me either.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Ashton’s lips before drawing back so that their foreheads could rest together. “I trust you not to hurt me, angel, the way I hope you trust me too.”

Ashton was trembling as he wrapped his arms warmly around the younger boy’s waist, just holding him close.

“Of course I trust you, curly,” he admitted tearfully. “I love you. I’ve _always_ loved you.”

Calum smiled down at him, cradling the older boy’s cheeks gently between his palms as he planted one last kiss on his lips.

“I love you too, drama queen,” he said fondly, chuckling when Ashton moved to elbow him weakly in the ribs. Calum caught his hand instead, entwining their fingers as he towed the Crown Prince off into the long grass. “Let’s have one more wander before we head back to the others, yeah? Give you some time to calm down a little bit first.”

Ashton hummed gratefully, resting his head on the younger boy’s shoulder for a moment as they ambled along, fingers tangled loosely. He was a comforting presence and, although Calum still felt a little uneasy with the dark trees at his back, it was easy to forget his misgivings when Ashton was holding his hand like that, so tender and familiar.

The ocean stretching away far below helped too. The moonlight was reflecting beautifully off the surface and the Prince found it easy to bury his fear in the face of such vast quantities of his beloved water. The paranoia he could feel at the close proximity of the shadowy treeline was crushed to nothing as he lost himself in the enormity of the waves crashing into the cliffs, the water surprisingly rough considering how clear the sky was tonight.

This was why Calum loved the coast so much: the power of the ocean was intoxicating and he felt it in his bones as he stepped a little closer to the edge, Ashton’s fingers slipping from his as he watched the awe on the Prince’s face fondly. He could feel the tremors in the ground beneath his feet as the water pounded the rocks and, as he gazed down reverently at the wild sea, all of his worries slipped away.

Everything felt inconsequential when he was standing before the ocean with Ashton beside him.

In fact, nothing else mattered at all.

A sudden rush of unexpected magic jarred him from his thoughts and, as the grass swayed around them and Ashton took a jerky step backwards in surprise, Calum’s heart threatened to stop beating.

A rogue wave sliced impossibly high into the air, blocking out the moonlight as the icy spray hung around them like a mist. In the second before the water crashed down and dragged Ashton over the edge, there was a moment where he held Calum’s gaze, his hazel eyes wide and terrified, his lips parted in his panic.

Adrenaline burnt through Calum as the wave finally slammed down on them and he reacted instinctively, his abilities flooding through him as he forced the water to part around him like a curtain, leaving him untouched. It occurred to him suddenly that Ashton couldn’t use his own powers to protect himself and, although he reached for the older boy desperately, he was just half a second too late.

Their fingertips brushed fleetingly before Ashton was jerked away from him, dragged down into the teeming water crashing violently below them. It was the little gasping sound Ashton made when he began to fall that tore Calum’s heart to pieces in his chest. It was such an insignificant sound as he plummeted off the cliff edge and Calum reached for him uselessly, a scream of the older boy’s name tearing out of him, loud enough for the chatter around the bonfire to cut off sharply as they finally realised that something was terribly wrong.

The magic in the air burnt away to nothing as a shadowy figure escaped through the trees in Calum’s peripheral vision but he didn’t even contemplate following them. There was only one option left open to him now and, without a second thought for his own safety, Calum launched himself over the edge after the Crown Prince, his eyes burning with tears and his hands outstretched to coax the water up towards him, hoping that would be enough to break his fall.

The hungry waves had already swallowed Ashton whole and Calum’s panic threatened to consume him as he crashed down the last few metres, plunging into the deep icy water. There were sharp rocks below that tore at his clothes and skin as he was battered into them but he barely processed the pain as he used his abilities to fight his way through the churning water, the only thought on his mind: he can’t swim _he can’t swim **he can’t swim**_.

It was the worst feeling in the world as he searched frantically for Ashton, the salt water burning his eyes as he squinted desperately through the shadows, using his powers to manipulate the current so that it would haul him faster through the waves. He could barely see at all now but a glimmer of something caught his narrowed gaze – a flash of red hair illuminated for a moment by the distant moonlight – and Calum identified it at once as the Crown Prince.

He curled his fists in the water, propelling himself through it almost painfully fast as the cold numbed him. He stretched his arms out in front of him, already reaching for the older boy through the freezing water because he knew every second counted now. Ashton wasn’t struggling or even moving anymore; he was limp and floating face down, and the waves were battering his body like a ragdoll as they slammed him against the rocks.

Calum’s heart was breaking when he finally wrapped his arms around Ashton, cradling the older boy’s head safely against his shoulder as he shot them up out of the water. In his desperation, he used too much energy and his stomach twisted sickeningly as the pair became airborne, rocketing through the cold air before they slammed down painfully onto the beach.

Calum’s cheeks were streaked with tears and blood but he barely noticed as he dragged Ashton’s body away from the grasping waves, his breaths ragged with sobs as the older boy’s head lolled to the side, his complexion grey beneath the sand and the grazes.

Calum had followed the older boy over the cliff edge in an effort to save him but clearly he hadn’t done enough.

Ashton wasn’t breathing.

*

The stab of absolute panic hit Niall like a lightning bolt. He jerked in shock as the colour drained from his face, his jaw slackening as his fingernails bit into the dirt. Calum’s strangled cry of Ashton’s name came a second later and the silence that followed it was strained as Niall’s breath began to claw out of him in panting gasps. He could feel the strength of Ashton’s terror and anxiety tightening around his lungs like barbed wire, and Niall thought he might pass out with the force of it as he fell forwards into the dirt, a shudder running through him when Luke’s hand settled gently on his shoulder.

The younger boy flinched like he’d been electrocuted when his palm came into contact with the healer’s skin, apparently able to pick up on the turmoil of emotions searing through Niall as he struggled to separate them from his own. He didn’t understand what was happening – all he could see when he closed his eyes was dark water and bubbles, the shadowy shapes of rocks, and the panic burning bright and hot at the centre of it all – but… but Calum had shouted _Ashton’s_ name… and that meant the Crown Prince was in deep trouble.

No sooner had the thought crossed Niall’s mind than Mali cried out in horror, clawing herself to her feet as she watched Calum throw himself over the edge of the cliff after the enormous wave that had dragged Ashton down to the seabed.

A screech of tyres sounded from behind the tree line and, a moment later, Sierra appeared, her face ashen and her hair in disarray, almost like she’d been running through the trees. She’d left a few minutes before to grab her jacket out of the transport but she looked frightened now, her eyes wide with fear as she doubled over, struggling to get her breath back. There was a bleeding gash above one eyebrow and she was limping slightly, one hand rubbing absently at a bruise blooming spectacularly on her elbow.

Niall’s cheek was pressed to the dirt now, his eyes flickering shut as he tried to force himself calm enough that he might be of use. He could feel Ashton’s fear fading now, replaced by something colder and darker… something that was undeniably death. If he succumbed, there would be no return from it but Niall couldn’t fight his way through the crushing terror to help. He could barely _breathe_ as he felt the water flooding into Ashton’s lungs and the shocking agony as he drowned on the saltwater.

The only thing keeping him grounded was Luke’s trembling hand cradling his cheek as the younger boy’s breaths escaped him shallowly, his panic little more than a spark compared to Ashton’s fiery terror beneath the waves.

“A guy just knocked me down in his transport,” Sierra said shakily as a droplet of blood rolled down her cheek. “He ran out of the trees wearing a mask while I was on my way back and…” Her voice trailed away as she began to shake harder – dimly, Niall could feel her fear fluttering on the edges of his consciousness – and the healer was glad that Ashley had been trained well enough to be business-like now because Niall felt like he was falling apart.

“You just got hit by a _transport_?!” Ashley demanded, already reaching for her as Sierra’s knees folded beneath her. She hit the grass with a quiet groan and the Tenebran looked back towards the trees frantically as her arm slipped around the injured girl’s shoulders, clearly trying to ascertain that the masked figure had left. “What… what’s happened?” Sierra breathed, her dark eyes damp. “I was only gone a few minutes. I don’t…”

“Ash and Calum went over the edge of the cliff,” Luke replied in a scarily numb voice nearby, his hands shaking badly as Niall forced himself back onto all fours beside him, drawing a deeper breath in with difficulty. “A fucking huge wave dragged Ashton down and Calum went after him. The wave was magic. We all felt it.”

“Luke –” Laura breathed, her hand outstretched towards her little brother like she could stop the words rising with the growing fury in his eyes. “Luke, don’t –”

“It was Calum,” he spat, making Mali and Michael recoil as they stared at him in appalled silence. Crumpled on the grass, Sierra’s expression became betrayed. “I heard him talking to his sister about their dad wanting Ash dead. I know it was Calum.”

“Luke,” Niall choked out, his chest still aching with the strength of the Crown Prince’s anxiety. “Luke, don’t do this now. We need to… we need to get down there and help…”

“You mean they’re still alive?!” Michael blurted out, seemingly acting on autopilot as his arms wrapped tightly around himself, his skin as white as bone. Mali sagged beside him, her shaking hands rising to cover her mouth as Sierra stared around the group in bewilderment, clearly in shock after the transport had hit her. “But… but _how_?”

“Calum has water powers, Michael,” Luke said sharply, brushing a boiling tear from his cheek angrily as he struggled to his feet. “I don’t know about everyone else but it seems pretty clear to me that he’s behind this.”

“He jumped off the cliff after him, Luke,” Michael whispered. “Cal wouldn’t hurt Ash. He _wouldn’t_.”

Mali was still staring in horror at the empty patch of grass where the boys had been standing, her tears falling so quickly that she didn’t seem to notice them as she finally dragged herself back to the present, trying to force herself calm with about as much success as the empath had managed.

“Niall,” she said slowly, failing to completely stamp out the terror in her eyes. “Niall, can you sense them? Did they both survive the fall?”

He shivered as he closed his eyes in response and refocused on their swirling emotions, little though he wanted to. He sensed Calum’s anxiety first; the salt stinging his skin and the bite of the rocks tearing at him as he propelled himself through the water, searching desperately for the Crown Prince.

“I can feel Calum,” Niall said faintly, shivering when Luke’s fingers entwined hesitantly with his. “He’s… he’s afraid…” He bit his lip, delving deeper before the fear became too suffocating and he had to pull away. “Calum’s innocent, Luke. He wants to _save_ Ash; not hurt him.”

Luke let out a soft whimpering sound beside him, his fingers slipping free of Niall’s as he buried his face in his hands, but even with his eyes shut, the empath could still sense the younger boy’s shame and fear.

“It’s okay, Luke,” a soft voice said and it took Niall a moment to realise it belonged to Mali, her tone quiet and just a tiny bit calmer now that she knew her brother was still fighting to make it back in one piece. “You’re just scared. I understand that. We’re _all_ scared… and you’re right about what you overheard, okay? And I promise I’ll talk to you about it but… but not right now. We don’t have time.”

“What about Ash?” Laura asked Niall weakly, clearly praying that her best friend was faring the same way as Calum: afraid but very much alive because, at least if Ashton was frightened, his adrenaline might well be enough to keep him fighting until he was safe again. Niall understood her logic and prayed for it too but, as he reached out tentatively once more – wary after the force of the Crown Prince’s emotions earlier – he felt something that sent him recoiling in horror as the blood ran like ice in his veins.

Ashton was chillingly calm now as the waves battered him into the rocks and, like a switch being flicked, the fight in him was snuffed out. His panic had burnt away to nothing, his pain dulling with every second he spent in the icy water. There was no agony in Ashton’s chest now because the saltwater had already filled his lungs and he was slipping away into the shadows wrapped so lovingly around him.

Niall didn’t want to think about the sudden ringing silence in his head when he reached out for Ashton and came up empty because… fuck. _Fuck_. He’d failed him. They’re _all_ failed him and he was dying, and there was nothing anyone but Calum could do.

“He… he isn’t…” Niall’s voice trailed away and he shook his head silently, feeling a burn of shame when he realised suddenly that there were tears rolling down his cheeks. He felt like he’d been drenched with icy water as his legs weakened beneath him, his pulse roaring in his ears. “Cal just reached him,” he whispered, his eyes gritty from crying as they flickered shut again, feeling the Prince’s relief quickly followed by horror. “We have to hurry. He needs our help.”

Laura took off without a word, Michael and Mali close on her heels as the trio raced down the rocky hill towards the beach far below them. Sierra limped after them determinedly, her face crumpling with pain with every step she took as Ashley wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her upright as she followed the Tenebran Princess down towards the water.

“Lukey, we need to go,” Niall said softly, his voice thick with tears. “They need us.”

“I accused Calum,” Luke whispered, his blue eyes welling up like his heart was breaking. “I blamed him and now Ash is _dying_ and I –”

“It looked bad, darling,” Niall interrupted gently, his shaking palm rising to cradle the younger boy’s squared jaw. “You care about Ash a lot and you heard the things Calum said, and then a giant wave that could _only_ have been the product of water magic dragged him off a cliff. Anyone would’ve drawn the same conclusions, Lukey. Don’t hate yourself for it.”

There was a moment of silence as the younger boy drew in a ragged breath, the wind tearing at the grass around them as he struggled to keep his abilities under control.

“C’mon,” Luke breathed, closing his eyes against the self-loathing rising inside him. “We’re being left behind.”

They set off after the others at a jog, Niall because he still felt weak and drained after the onslaught of emotions he’d been subjected to, and Luke because he seemed afraid that the older man might collapse if he left him by himself.

The rest of the group made quite a sight as they tore down the hillside in front of them. Trees fell in Laura’s wake, the grass withering beneath her feet as she unconsciously absorbed as much energy as possible in case she needed to defend herself. A storm was brewing overhead as Michael’s fists crackled with lightning and Mali’s hands gleamed with metal now, forming protective gauntlets that had once been various pieces of jewellery and ornamental metal decorating her outfit.

The Princess looked resolute enough that she might very well have waded into the ocean to rescue the boys herself if Calum hadn't chosen that moment to re-emerge in a surge of water, shooting up into the sky with Ashton cradled to his chest before they crashed down onto the sand with a bone-jarring thud.

The shocking brutality of the situation dragged Niall back to the Boneflats and his breath caught in his chest as Luke squeezed his hand securely, holding his gaze in an effort to keep him present.

“We need to go faster,” the younger boy breathed as he reached to link their arms and, after a moment of confusion, Niall felt Luke’s wind abilities at work once more. The breeze was carrying them in its wake, making their footsteps light as a feather as they raced down the slope after their friends, closing the considerable distance between them in seconds for all the good it would do them. They still hadn’t been able to reach the Crown Prince in time and Calum’s despair was tangible in the air now as Niall searched desperately for a flicker of something – _anything_ – behind Ashton’s closed lids. Terrifyingly, there was only darkness and a heart-wrenching silence that the empath recognised all too well after being surrounded by the dead on the Boneflats.

The reality that they had lost their friend was burrowing deeper inside Niall with every step he took and he saw that hollow knowing reflected back at him in Luke’s face as the younger boy held his hand more tightly, his cheeks streaked with tears.

Ashton was slipping away from them like grains of sand and they’d never reach him in time.

They were too late.

*

_The sky was a bright lilac overhead, the sun just barely rising after another night of artillery fire. There were pools of blood drying on the cracked ground of the Boneflats. Magic crackled in the air like lightning and the roar of jets overhead was deafening as -_

Ashton could hear crying, distant but strangely familiar. There were broken sobs, hands hauling him out of water, his body limp and water-logged, a dead weight as he was dragged across the sand -

_He wanted to leave the Boneflats. He’d hated it here since the first moment he arrived, focused only on keeping himself and Laura safe so that they could make it back home in one piece. Every day was harder than the last, draining him of energy and making his bones ache as he followed the orders he was given with a stiff upper lip, trying to portray himself as the brave Crown Prince that the Claritan people respected so much… but that wasn’t how he felt at all inside. If only people could see the real him. If only -_

“Ash, angel, _please_ ,” a desperate voice gasped, the words strangled with how hard the boy was crying. Ashton knew him. He was _sure_ he knew him and he wanted to open his eyes to check but… he couldn’t. His eyelids felt heavy as lead, his hair plastered to his skull, his entire body throbbing agonisingly although the pain dulled with every slowing beat of his heart.

He was dying, he realised dimly; dying and he didn’t even know who was crying over him which felt unfair. Blood was welling in his mouth, his lips cracked with saltwater and parted against someone else’s as they breathed air uselessly into his lungs. His chest hurt and Ashton wanted to stop fighting. He was tired… _so_ tired… almost too tired to fight anymore except -

“Ashy, it’s Laura,” a second voice said, softer and weaker, and breathless with crying. “C’mon, Ashy.” Her trembling hands were on his face, tilting his head back so that she could breathe air into his lungs. She was crying so hard he could almost feel her tears mingling with the saltwater plastered to his skin as her hands pushed down hard on his chest, forcing the water agonisingly from his lungs. “Sweetheart, please, _please_ don’t do this to me again,” she sobbed out, desperate and loving. “I can’t lose you again. I _can’t_... and neither can Calum or the others, okay? You’ve got to come back to us, Ash. Come back.”

 _The Boneflats were fading around him, the shadows stretching across the ground like ink… rolling like_ waves _almost, as strange as that seemed. He could feel the gentle ebb of pain rising and falling inside him, his lungs screaming at him, his torn skin stinging more sharply than the deeper, painful aches underneath. He realised suddenly that he wasn’t standing up on the cracked ground at all. He was lying on sand except… there_ was _no sand on the Boneflats… so where was he? Where was **Calum**? How -_

“Laura, his heart isn’t beating,” a voice said weakly. _Niall_. “We can’t heal him with magic if he doesn’t have a heartbeat.”

Someone was crying, weak and frightened - Sierra maybe or possibly Luke - but suddenly, Ashton could barely sense them at all. He felt like the sand was rising up around him, covering him tenderly as it coaxed him back down into the earth. The only thing keeping him grounded at all were Laura’s scarred palms forcing the water from his lungs and the feeling of shaking fingers entwined with his own. A thumb was rubbing smoothly over his hand, lips brushing his knuckles as they parted silently around the word ‘please’.

It could only have been Calum and Ashton wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay but the world felt too far away now. Ashton was slipping under and nothing in all of Cerasus could bring him back, except perhaps -

“Michael!” Laura gasped suddenly, her pained voice tinged with hope. “Mike, use your magic to shock him. Maybe it’ll restart his heart. It might buy us time to heal him enough that it would be safe to use a stasis spell.”

“That could work!” Niall breathed, his fingers tightening in the torn material of the Crown Prince’s shirt as Ashton lay limply on the ground before his friends. Mali was murmuring to Calum, her tearful gaze fixed on Ashton’s bleeding ashen face as the moonlight bathed them in its silvery glow. Luke’s arm had slipped around Sierra’s waist and Ashley was cursing softly. Kneeling in the sand nearby, Michael was silent and apprehensive.

They were all there with him, making sure he wasn’t alone.

Ashton loved them so much in that moment that it burnt like his fire.

“I’ll hurt him even worse,” Michael whispered fearfully, almost too quiet for Ashton to hear. “What if I lose control? What if I -”

“I trust you, Mikey,” Calum said, the note of pleading in his voice painful to listen to. “And I know Ash trusts you too. You’ve gotta try, Mikey, please.”

“Be gentle, little brother,” Mali urged Michael gently, her voice thick with tears. “No frying anyone, okay?”

A slightly hysterical bubble of laughter escaped the younger boy in response and he was trembling as his palms settled hesitantly over the Crown Prince’s chest. For a moment, nothing happened at all. His friends seemed to be holding their breath but Ashton couldn’t tell for certain. The moonlight was fading behind his eyelids. The sand felt warm as it stretched over his face like a suffocating blanket.

“C’mon, sparky,” Laura breathed, soft and certain. “You’ve got this. It _will_ work.”

Ashton’s body jerked violently on the sand when Michael administered the shock. It was, without a doubt, the single worst pain he’d ever felt - worse even than the excruciating ache of his bones splintering on the Boneflats - and he might have screamed in agony if he’d been conscious enough to force himself into awareness.

“Mike, you did it!” Niall gasped, the relief saturating his tone as he immediately settled his palms on Ashton’s chest, keen to repair the damage that had just been inflicted on the weakened muscle. Laura leant down to breathe air into his lungs again, her hands soft but firm on his face, his ribs aching even as the healing warmth of the empath’s magic spread through him.

Ashton rocketed back to consciousness with a strangled sob, choking up water as his stomach emptied itself on the sand. His chest was burning brightly with pain and a stabbing ache in his ankle was making itself apparent where he’d slammed repeatedly into the rocks. Calum stroked his hair away from his forehead gently, half lying in the sand beside him as he watched the Crown Prince with tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Try not to move, Ashy,” Laura murmured, her words rough with how much she’d been crying as she healed some of the deeper grazes on his face. “We need to fix you up first. That looks like a broken ankle.”

“My ribs -” Ashton broke off with a raspy cough, his body wracked with agony as his face crumpled.

“We can’t heal him here,” Niall said grimly, his face ashen as Ashton peered up at him blearily through a fog of pain, his eyes burning from the salt. “Cracked ribs and a broken ankle aren’t life threatening, and we need to get him somewhere warm before he gets hypothermia. Plus, I don’t have any of my medical supplies with me and the first aid kits back in the transport will be useless. We need to get him back to the palace, _now_.” He lowered his voice, his blue gaze burning with urgency as he looked his friends in the eye. “We could still lose him. He isn’t out of the woods yet.”

“Then let’s hurry,” Calum said tearfully, his soft words almost lost beneath the crash of the waves. He stroked Ashton’s cheek gently, his heart aching as the older boy struggled to focus on his face. “I’m gonna pick you up now, angel, okay? I’m sorry if it hurts.”

“It’s alright,” Ashton rasped, every word burning his throat as he let his eyes slide shut in exhaustion. The cuts on Calum’s face were still welling blood but he barely seemed to notice them as he lifted the Crown Prince gently into his arms, pressing his lips together hard when Ashton let out a weak cry of pain.

“I’ve got you, angel,” Calum murmured, his cheeks sticky with tears as he pressed a brief kiss to the older boy’s forehead. “We’ll make you safe again.”

They started off across the sand with their friends surrounding them, Niall and Laura lingering close on either side in case Ashton’s condition worsened suddenly. Ashley and Michael led the way back to the transports, the pair of them peering through the darkness warily in case the masked man was still lurking in the shadows while Mali hurried to Calum’s side, her metal-clad fists curled protectively as she murmured to him, her gaze flickering frequently towards Luke as she no doubt relayed the younger boy’s allegation up on the cliffs.

The younger Hemmings sibling brought up the rear with Sierra, the Claritan bodyguard leaning heavily against the younger boy’s side as she watched Ashton mournfully, seemingly on the verge of tears.

“Sierra?” Luke asked softly, his voice little more than a whisper as he tried to ignore Mali’s murmured words. “Are you hurting badly?”

“That doesn’t matter,” she said tearfully, tangling her fingers anxiously in her dark hair as she shot Luke an agonised glance. She could barely put any weight on her injured knee now but the pain didn’t even seem to cross her mind as she tightened her fist in the younger boy’s shirt, anchoring herself upright as they left the sand behind and started back arduously up the hillside. “This… this should _never_ have been allowed to happen. I should’ve _been_ there… I should’ve…”

“You did the best you could, Sierra,” Luke reminded her gently, his blue eyes damp as the guilt seared inside him. “No one could’ve seen this coming. Not even you.”

They walked the rest of the way up the hillside in silence and, by the time they reached the transports, Ashton was unconscious again, his head lolling over Calum’s shoulder as one of his arms hung limply, his skin dirty with blood and sand.

“Laura, I need you in the transport with Ash and I,” Niall said thoughtfully, biting his bottom lip as he counted the number of seats in the vehicle with a growing frown. “Sierra, you better come with us since you’re hurt too… and, Cal, I’m guessing -”

“I am _not_ leaving him,” Calum said determinedly, fighting back tears as Michael helped him stretch Ashton out comfortably on the backseat. Spurred on by their actions, Laura helped Sierra limp into the vehicle too and Niall sighed softly, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion.

“That’s settled then,” he said heavily, biting his lip when he noticed how frightened Luke looked as his arms came to wrap around himself.

“Lukey, will you be okay in the other transport?” The younger boy had gone scarily pale now and it was easy to understand the fear radiating from him, even if the Princess _had_ graciously forgiven him for wrongly accusing her brother earlier.

“He’s fine with us, Niall,” Michael said firmly as he approached the younger boy, giving him a tentative smile that went no way to hiding the weariness he could feel. “Isn’t that right, buttercup?”

“Sure,” Luke said shakily, shooting Niall and his sister a longing look before he turned hesitantly to face the Tenebrans. “If you guys don’t mind.”

“Of course we don’t,” Mali said softly, her fingers tangled with Ashley’s as the Princess gestured towards the open door. “After you two, boys. Let’s not waste any more time.”

*

The roads leading out of Flos Bay seemed a lot more jarring than their journey there. Sierra’s injured knee was throbbing with every bump in the tarmac but she gritted her teeth against the pain, grimacing at the blood drying on her skin from the gash above her eyebrow. Her entire body ached but, despite Laura having offered on several occasions to heal her injuries, she preferred to wait until they’d made it back to the palace in one piece. It would just be typical bad luck if Ashton’s condition worsened after the healers had spent their energy fixing Sierra and that was something she couldn’t live with. It was better to be safe than sorry and, if that meant she had to suffer for longer, she would accept it without question.

“How much longer ‘til we’re back?” Calum asked fearfully, his tone bordering on frantic as he wiped distractedly at one of the sluggishly bleeding cuts on his face, his gaze still locked on Ashton.

The Crown Prince was lying stretched out on the seat, his head resting in Calum’s lap with Laura’s cardigan draped over him warmly. His eyes were flickering under their lids, his skin worryingly pale as the Prince stroked his damp hair gently, his cheeks wet with tears.

“Only ten more minutes,” Niall said distractedly, his brow creased as he reached to check the Crown Prince’s pulse. “Sierra, can you try contacting the palace again please? The signal should have restored by now.” She dug into her pocket for her comm and Niall bit his lip as he exchanged an exhausted look with Laura, their pale faces drawn in the flicker of street lights. “I can’t believe there was no signal up on the cliffs. We were cut off completely and we had no idea.”

“It was so dangerous,” Laura said uneasily, her expression growing visibly upset as her gaze returned once more to Ashton’s unconscious face. “Niall, are you _sure_ I shouldn’t use another stasis spell?”

“It would be better not to if we can avoid it,” he said hesitantly, his frown deepening. “They cause a lot of strain and his heart is already weakened…” He raked his fingers through his dark hair nervously, looking more concerned by the second. “If he deteriorates further then -”

They were interrupted by Sierra’s relieved sigh as the call finally connected and they both watched her with bated breath as she tightened her grip on the comm, waiting for someone to answer.

“Hello? Hello, Fletcher, it’s Sierra, I -” She faltered, her eyes widening at whatever she could hear over the phone. “None of us had any signal, sir. We didn’t know anyone was trying to warn us.” She bit her lip, her face paling as her gaze flickered unhappily towards the Crown Prince. “It’s already too late, sir. Ashton got hurt but… well, we’re on our way back now. Almost there. Niall and Laura are keeping him stable but it was a very close call. If Calum hadn’t been there...”

She fell silent as the King spoke, pinching the bridge of her nose as she inhaled shallowly, clearly trying to calm herself. A flush was spreading down her throat and it was only the moonlight outside that betrayed the tears beginning to well in her eyes as the events of the night threatened to catch up with her. Naturally, Niall noticed her turbulent emotions first and he proved his kindness once again as he reached for the comm, hurriedly reassuring Fletcher that, while his son’s condition _was_ undeniably serious, he would almost certainly pull through and be as good as new in no time.

Sierra leant against Laura’s shoulder once she was no longer responsible for appeasing the King, a tear rolling down her cheek as the fair-haired girl reached for her hand comfortingly.

“Fletcher said they’ve been trying to contact us for the last hour,” Sierra said tearfully, her tone so wretched that even Calum looked up worriedly as his palm settled on Ashton’s forehead. “He said they received intel that the Purgatio were planning to make a move tonight. They must’ve found out where we were going to be somehow.”

“Well, I guess that proves it wasn’t me trying to murder anyone then,” Calum muttered but, despite the flippancy of his words, it was clear how badly he was hurting. He seemed to have shrunk in on himself, his dark eyes damp as he fought against the tears rising inside him.

They all winced in the silence that followed when they heard Niall listing Ashton’s injuries - cracked ribs and a broken ankle, and the damage to his heart and lungs which could thankfully be fixed fairly easily with enough healing magic - and Sierra felt small as she leant against the older girl’s side, her exhaustion growing as she closed her eyes, only to flinch upright when she remembered the headlights of the transport hurtling towards her in the woods and the burst of pain as she was flung into the closely-packed tree trunks.

“Hey there,” Laura murmured, rubbing the younger girl’s shoulder gently. “Deep breaths for me, sweetheart, okay? We’ll all get through this. Everything will be alright soon.”

Sierra slumped against the older girl’s side with a heavy sigh, her heart sinking as Niall finally hung up the phone and reached once more to check Ashton’s pulse, his shoulders tense with stress. Calum was crying silently now, barely seeming to notice the tears rolling down his cheeks as he listened to Ashton’s rasping breaths with pain clear on his scraped face.

It was terrifying to realise just how close they’d come to losing their friend tonight and the fact that the Purgatio seemed more determined than ever to kill the Crown Prince was nothing short of harrowing. The terrorist group were growing stronger with every passing moment and she knew with sickening certainty that they wouldn’t stop now; not when they’d almost succeeded in finishing Ashton off once and for all.

Sierra’s job as his bodyguard was getting tougher by the day and, quite honestly, she wasn’t sure she was enough to keep him safe anymore. His parents had assigned her to keep him from exploding the way he had on the Boneflats and setting the world around him aflame. Sierra was there to act as damage control; not to combat assassins at every turn.

If she’d been put in place to protect anyone else, she would have given up long ago but it didn’t feel so easy now.

She loved Ashton like a sibling. Hell, she loved _all_ of them but… maybe she’d helped as much as she was able to.

Maybe they’d be better off without her.

For the first time since she’d accepted the job, Sierra wasn’t sure she wanted it anymore.

She thought it might be time for her to leave.

“Sweetheart, why are you crying?” Laura asked softly from beside her, her arm wrapped warmly around the younger girl’s shoulders. Sierra squeezed her eyes tightly shut in response, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she tried to force her emotions under control.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, unsure if she was lying or not. “I hurt. That’s all. It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” Laura said gently, her expression faintly knowing when the younger girl finally risked glancing up at her guiltily. “You’re our _friend_ , Sierra. Don’t forget that.”

*

The palace was in uproar by the time they finally made it back. The forcefields were crackling brightly overhead as the guards rushed the two transports through the security checkpoint, their fierce determination in stark contrast to the tense silence filling the second transport.

Luke felt small as he hunched up in his seat, his cheeks streaked with tears, his jaw set as he stared down at his fingers twisting in his lap. They looked spidery and pale in the moonlight, and growing blurrier by the second as he fought against the lump rising in his throat.

Michael was sitting beside him, shooting the younger boy wary unhappy looks whenever he thought Luke wouldn’t notice and, iIn seats opposite them, Mali and Ashley weren’t much better. Luke wanted to cry as he processed just how badly he’d torn things up and the shame he felt only intensified with every passing moment as the guilt he felt threatened to swallow him whole.

His friendship with the Tenebrans would almost certainly be ruined now and all because he had been too cowardly to confront them about David Hood’s thirst for revenge. The flash of hatred Luke felt for the Tenebran King took his breath away as his nails bit into his wrist and the strength of his emotions frightened him as the transports finally came to a sharp stop, their brakes screeching in the darkness.

After that, everything became a blur.

Luke watched through tear-filled eyes as Ashton was lifted out of the car by two guards who, accompanied by Niall, rushed the unconscious Crown Prince quickly into the palace. Laura followed with her arm wrapped around a heavily-limping Sierra and Luke felt lonelier than he ever had as he followed the Tenebrans stiffly out of the transport, his heart aching in his chest when he saw Calum standing alone in the shadows.

The Prince shrugged his sister’s hand away when she reached for him and Mali looked hurt as she nestled closer into Ashley’s side, her expression pained when it became clear how badly Calum was trying to keep from falling apart. Blood was blooming on his shirt, clearly a product of the cuts he’d sustained after coming into contact with the jagged rocks, and he looked bereft without Ashton to watch over, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as the shivers tore through him.

“Cal?” Michael murmured as he tentatively approached his best friend, his eyes widening when he saw how wildly the water was bursting from the fountains nearby as the younger boy’s hands curled into fists. “Cal, are you -”

“Just leave me alone,” Calum snapped desperately, his fingertips digging into his thighs as he turned away, afraid of losing control in front of the others. “I don’t want to talk to any of you right now. I… I _can’t_...”

“Right,” Michael said quietly, his cheeks flaming as he took a jerky step backwards, looking very much as though he’d been hit. “Well then... I guess I’ll go see if Laura needs me.” He turned on his heel, drying his eyes with his sleeve as he marched back across the grass, his shoulders slumped. Mali’s brow creased as she looked between them helplessly, her hands shaking as Ashley entwined their fingers securely, pressing her lips silently to the older girl’s shoulder.

“You need to get checked over too, peanut,” Mali said softly, her voice weakening when she saw the pain rippling across her brother’s face. “You’re hurt.”

“Later,” Calum muttered, his voice thickening as the tears rose chokingly inside him, his knuckles whitening with how tightly his hands were curled. “Let them fix Ash first.”

“You’re important too,” Mali said tentatively, taking a small step closer as Ashley bit her lip nervously. “And Ash’ll pull through, Cal. Niall said so, didn’t he? We just need to let him work his magic.”

“Please just… just go, Mali,” Calum said weakly, his face crumpling as the tears boiled over. The fountains were gushing violently now and the hairs on the back of Luke’s neck rose at the desperate sobs tearing out of the Prince.

“Ashley and I will go check on Ash for you, peanut,” Mali said softly, trying one last time to calm him down. “We’ll let you know when he can have visitors, yeah? Once he’s awake again.”

“Just go!” Calum cried, his voice breaking as he flung his hand out in the air between them, sending a spray of water from the fountain cascading over them in a torrent. They all flinched as the icy liquid soaked them and even Calum seemed stunned by what he’d done as Mali took a sharp step back, already shivering at the cold as her expression hardened.

“C’mon, Ashley,” she said roughly, clearly trying hard not to cry. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

Ashley followed her inside with a worried glance over her shoulder at the trembling Prince, standing all by himself in the shadows as the water dripped down his cheeks like tears. Only Luke remained behind, soaked to the skin and shivering himself as he watched Calum silently.

It seemed that the older boy hadn’t noticed Luke lingering by the entrance hall and, now that he had no reason to hide his emotions, it was painful to watch the agony unfolding on his tear-streaked face. The sympathy welled inside Luke like the tide when he saw how badly Calum was shaking and he knew in that moment that the Prince had never once wanted this to happen.

He looked like his heart had been torn apart in his chest.

Without thinking, Luke stepped down onto the grass, his heart pounding in his chest when the Prince whipped round to look at him, clearly startled by the unexpected movement.

“Calum?” Luke’s voice was softer than he’d intended, his tone nothing short of pleading as he reached through the darkness between them. “I… I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, you’re still here, are you?” the older boy asked nastily, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he squared his jaw against the sobs building inside him. “No offence, Hemmings, but you’re the last person on Cerasus that I want to talk to right now.”

“Calum, I’m sorry but… this is important,” Luke said uneasily, trying to inject a note of steel into his voice although he wasn’t sure how well he’d managed. “I badly owe you an apology… and I’m not going inside ‘til you hear me out.”

“You’re gonna be waiting out here for a long fucking time then,” Calum growled, striding closer across the wet grass as Luke stood his ground, the growing breeze tousling their clothes and hair as the younger boy fought to calm himself in the face of the Prince’s fury.

“Calum, I… I’m not just apologising for tonight,” Luke said weakly, his expression downcast when the older boy came to a stop in front of him, both of them breathing hard as the tension between them grew. “I… I’ve been off with you since you first arrived here. I couldn’t stand how much Ashton liked you and… well, I think I would’ve found any reason to try and hate you. He fell for you so fast - the way he _never_ fell for me - and I hated the idea of you two working out, even though I didn’t want to give a damn.”

Calum was watching him silently, standing so close that - for a moment - all Luke could see were the tears trickling down his scraped cheeks, tracing paths through the dried blood. His hands were hanging limply by his sides now, barely trembling at all as the fight bled out of him.

“Ash loves you so much, Calum,” Luke said softly, a lump rising in his throat when the older boy hung his head, a weak sob escaping him. “I can accept that now. I have Niall and Ashton has you, and I wish I could’ve accepted that at the beginning. It would’ve saved all of us a lot of heartache… but I _couldn’t_ accept it at first. I hated the thought of you two being together even though I knew it was wrong of me and it made me hate _myself_ too…”

Luke took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders when Calum looked up at him tearfully, appearing shockingly small as the pain he could feel seeped him of his strength.

“When I heard you and Mali talking the night of Ashton’s birthday, I figured I’d been right about you all along,” Luke admitted softly, ashamed of himself. “I felt so… so fucking _righteous_ tonight when I thought I was telling everyone the truth on the cliffs.” His lip curled in self-disgust as he knuckled the burning tears from his eyes, a heavy sigh escaping him. “But I wasn’t telling them the truth at all, was I? All I did was waste precious time that we could’ve spent helping you and Ash.. and I’m sorry for that, Calum. I’m so, _so_ fucking sorry that my selfishness nearly got Ashton killed. I know you probably hate me now and… and I don’t blame you, okay? But I promise you don’t hate me as much as I hate myself for the way I’ve behaved these last six months. I’m fucking ashamed, honestly. If I could take it back then I would but - but it’s too late, isn’t it? I’ve fucked everything up and I can never say sorry enough, Calum. Not ever.”

His knees weakened beneath him and he might have fallen if the Prince hadn’t reached out for him, his palms settling warmly on the younger boy’s shoulders as he kept him upright.

“Slow down there, Hemmings,” Calum said quietly, his voice thick with tears as Luke watched him mournfully, shrinking in the older boy’s gentle grip. “I don’t hate you. Of _course_ I don’t hate you. You were right! I came here with the worst intentions, Luke.” He lowered his voice as he glanced around nervously, making sure no guards were nearby to overhear. “My dad wanted Ash dead and even befriending him was going against dad’s wishes… but then I fell in love instead and thank _fuck_ I did. I don’t want to think about what might’ve happened if I hadn’t grown close to Ash; if earning my dad’s love had been more important than keeping Ashton safe.”

Calum dropped his gaze, the guilt in his eyes mirroring Luke’s as he stared down at the damp grass, beginning to shiver where the icy water was drying on his bruised skin.

“You were right to be worried by those things you overheard on Ash’s birthday, Luke,” Calum said quietly, his eyes reddened with tears as the breeze around them stilled when the younger boy held his breath. “Dad wants revenge so, _so_ badly and… well, I don’t blame you in the slightest for telling the others. I only wish I’d been brave enough to tell them the truth myself.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Luke said bitterly, wincing a little at the resentment he could feel as he remembered them all staring at him in appalled silence on the cliffs. “None of them said it but… I know they all think I was lying... that I was being pathetic. I could see it in their faces.”

“You’re their friend and I’m sure they don’t think that,” Calum reassured him softly. “You’re not pathetic in the slightest, Luke. You were trying to keep Ash safe and, no matter what was driving you, you did a better job of it than I did. He _trusts_ you, Luke. You two have been in each other’s lives for so long.”

“You jumped off a cliff for him,” Luke said plaintively, his curls falling into his eyes as he avoided the older boy’s gaze, making Calum sigh softly.

“And you looked after him when the Boneflats War almost tore him apart,” the Prince pointed out tiredly. “How about we call it even instead of fighting over who cares most?”

“Okay,” Luke whispered, slumping in the older boy’s grip as Calum relaxed a little, visibly relieved. “I really am sorry, Cal.”

“So am I, Luke,” he said heavily. “I’m sorry your birthday was ruined.”

Luke huffed out an exhausted laugh that Calum mirrored weakly, his dark eyes crinkling into the faintest smile the younger boy had ever seen.

“That’s alright,” Luke said honestly, his expression softening as some of his tension melted away. “Thank you for saving Ash tonight.”

“Thank you for giving me a second chance,” Calum replied, shrugging weakly before he winced as one of the cuts under his shirt began to bleed anew. Luke frowned faintly as he took in the poorly-buried pain in the older boy’s eyes, straightening up as he came to a decision.

“Let’s go and get you healed up,” he said without leaving any room for argument, feeling more than a little out of his depth when the Prince shot him an exhausted smile. “We’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

Calum gave his hand a grateful squeeze as they stepped into the light together.

Luke held on like his life depended on it.

*

For the first time since the Crown Prince had disappeared over the cliff edge, Laura felt like she could breathe easily again.

Ashton was being cared for by some of the most skilled healers in Claritas and the medical bay was teeming with activity as they worked to keep his condition stable. Laura’s attention was better focused on Sierra as the younger girl stretched out on one of the hospital beds, the pain on her face fading with every fleeting brush of the older girl’s fingertips.

“Uh oh,” Sierra breathed suddenly, her dark gaze locked on the glass observation panel showing the corridor outside as her eyebrows rose. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

Laura looked up from the fading bruising on the younger girl’s knee with a frown which quickly melted into shock when she saw her brother and Calum sitting side by side out in the corridor, their expressions strangely _chagrined_ as they gripped each other’s hands comfortingly. The relief that surged through Laura at the sight of them made her feel dizzy although her frown returned when she noticed that they were both dripping wet. Mali and Ashley had appeared a short while ago, also plastered to the skin although neither had seemed willing to mention it, and Laura was confused as to why that was, at least until Michael offered his opinion from where he’d been sitting on a chair in the corner, doing his best to keep out of everyone’s way.

“Looks like Princess had a temper tantrum,” he muttered, apparently still sulking a little that Calum had snapped at him to leave. Laura shot Michael a reproving glance that only ever managed to look fond, mostly just relieved that the healers hidden behind the curtain surrounding Ashton’s bed sounded calm now, as opposed to frantic.

“At least everything’s calming down now,” Laura pointed out, finally straightening up when the last of the bruising had disappeared from Sierra’s knee. “There,” she said, satisfied. “How’s that feeling?”

“Much better, thank you,” Sierra confirmed softly, looking a lot more comfortable now that the cut on her forehead had been healed too. “Once I shower, you wouldn’t even know I’d got knocked down in the first place.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Laura said warmly although her expression quickly reflected Luke and Calum’s anxiety out in the corridor when the curtains around Ashton’s bed suddenly parted. Niall appeared, rumpled and exhausted as he dropped some blood-stained surgical gloves into the waste disposal nearby. He stifled a yawn, his eyes drooping as he ambled over towards them, easily able to pick up on their desperation thanks to the strength of his abilities.

“Lukey? Calum?” Niall asked as he opened the door briefly, sticking his head out. “You two can come in if you promise to stay out of the way. I figure you’ll want to hear this too.”

The pair followed him into the medical bay meekly although they - along with Laura, Michael, and Sierra - visibly relaxed when they saw the weary smile spreading across Niall’s face. “I won’t beat around the bush,” the healer said tiredly, his tone warm. “Ashton is going to pull through. It’ll take him a little while to get back to normal but, for the most part, he should be completely fine.” Calum looked like he was going to burst into tears of relief as he gazed longingly towards the curtains but he managed to stay put, probably thanks to Michael appearing and - somewhat pointedly - slipping his arm around his best friend’s waist.

“Laura, your quick thinking tonight saved Ashton’s life,” Niall continued in a softer voice. “It never would’ve crossed my mind to use Mike’s powers like that but… well, I’m glad you were smarter than me.” The healer paused suddenly, smiling a little wryly at Michael who suddenly seemed very interested in the floor. “We managed to fix the damage to Ash’s heart too. It seems Mike was just a little too exuberant but it certainly did the job. Ash must be made of stronger stuff than we realised.”

“Of course he is,” Laura said softly, her eyes blazing with pride. “He always has been.”

“Ash should be awake by the morning,” Niall said quietly, stifling another yawn as his exhaustion caught up with him although he would have to have been blind to miss the way the Prince was watching him hopefully. “Yes, Cal, you can go see him now.” The younger boy flew past so quickly that he left little more than a stirring of wind behind and Laura smiled tiredly as Michael reached for her hand, tangling their fingers together.

“You should all get some rest,” Niall said softly, his expression fond as his eyes drifted over them. “You’re all exhausted.”

“So are you,” Luke said quietly, his cheeks flushed as he shyly avoided the gazes of his friends. “Aside from perhaps Calum, you’ve done more than all of us put together tonight.”

“I’ll rest soon,” Niall said honestly. “There’s just one more member of royalty I need to fix up first.” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as he sidled closer, his palm settling lightly on Luke’s shoulder. “You wanna hang around?” he suggested softly. “I could do with someone to hold tonight. I never have nightmares when I’m with you.”

“Then how can I say no?” Luke murmured, his cheeks burning hotter as he brushed a chaste kiss over Niall’s lips. “I’d love to stay at yours tonight.”

Feeling a huge amount of relief as the world slowly settled back on its axis, Laura turned back to Michael and Sierra, tired but too jittery with the evening’s adrenaline to even think about sleep yet.

“I think it’s time you were back in your own bed, Sierra,” she said kindly, her fingers still entwined securely with Michael’s. “How about Mike and I walk you back to your room, yeah? We can make sure your knee doesn’t play up on the way.”

“Sure,” Sierra said gratefully. “I can give Mali and Ashley a call on my comm on the way; let them know that Ash is going to be alright.”

“Perfect,” Laura said warmly. “Sounds like a plan.”

*

“What a fucking night,” Michael mumbled, sounding more than a little shell-shocked as the pair started back down the corridor outside Sierra’s room. Laura laughed softly in response, feeling just as shaky and dazed as Michael now that the reality of the evening was finally beginning to sink in.

The pair gravitated back to the Hemmings’ apartment without discussion, their fingers still tangled tightly as they passed the somber-faced guards patrolling the corridors. Laura’s heart ached a little in her chest when she saw Michael’s tired emerald green eyes and the way his sandy hair was lying limply across his forehead. His exhaustion and anxiety seemed just as present as her own, and the only time the feeling faded a little was when she pressed herself closer to him, his arm brushing warmly against hers as they paused outside the door while she dug around for her key.

Her parents would long since be asleep and Laura was glad of that as she finally pushed the door open, shushing the younger boy needlessly as she glanced along the corridor outside, relieved that it was empty for the moment. Michael hesitated behind her on the doorstep, his broad shoulders slumping a little as he looked at her, his gaze smouldering in the dim light.

Something unspoken passed between them before Laura’s lips twitched suddenly, her eyes prickling with tears at the strange rush of emotions searing through her as he reached to cradle her cheek.

“Are you coming in or what?” she murmured, her soft sound of surprise lost when he ducked his head for a kiss that tasted like desperation. “Not out in the hallway,” she mumbled, drawing back even though it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. “Come with me. C’mon.”

He followed her easily, their fingers entwining once more as she led him towards her bedroom, weaving between the furniture in the dark room with ease. He stumbled after her, clumsy and in love, and she could feel the warmth of it wrapping around her like a blanket as they finally pushed the door shut behind them, both of them breathing hard in the sudden silence.

“Have you ever -” She broke off with a gasp when his hand tangled in her long hair, his lips brushing her jaw.

“No,” Michael whispered shyly, the heat of his blushing cheeks burning through the darkness. “Have you?”

“No,” Laura breathed, shivering as her hands slipped beneath his shirt to smooth over the pale skin of his back. “Shall we?”

“Yeah,” Michael groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment when she drew him down onto the bed, the mattress squeaking faintly beneath them. “Please.”

He looked anxious suddenly, too big for the small space as he reached to stroke her cheek shakily. She knew exactly how he felt too: so jittery and full of nerves, and still desperate for the closeness that might go some small way to soothing the aching pain in her chest. His hair was messy and his leather jacket felt strange under her palms when he ducked down to kiss her, and it felt sort of inevitable in that moment, like everything they’d ever done had been leading up to this moment: all chipped nail varnish and hands cradling cheeks, and Michael’s soft whimper when Laura pulled him closer, her lips drifting down his throat as his hand settled on her thigh, sliding up under the soft material of her skirt.

Her hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her, the golden locks painted silver in the light of the full moon shining in through the thin curtains. Her hands were shaking as she shoved at Michael’s jacket, discarding it uncaringly on the floor. His lips were soft against her skin as he kissed down her throat.

Laura closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of him in her arms: warm and safe, and alive.

No more words were necessary tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I can't wait to hear what you thought <3


	14. Homestretch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the lovely readers who foolishly asked for angst, this chapter is for you.  
> Laura, thank you as always for your help and motivation. Sparky is all yours.
> 
> Trigger warning for reference to injury and mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, brief description of non-graphic implied sexual content, and description of self-harm.

**_Mama said:_ **

**_Fulfil the prophecy; be something greater._ **

**_Go make a legacy; manifest destiny._ **

**_Back in the days,_ **

**_We wanted everything, wanted everything._ **

_High Hopes, Panic! At The Disco_

 

Ashton woke to pale white light streaming over his face. The world was quiet around him, the only sounds soft breathing and the gentle beeping of machines as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He stretched out under the sheets, a soft groan escaping him when the pain in his ankle spiked dully. The bone had been broken so badly when he’d hit the rocks that the strength of the healing magic he’d been subjected to hadn’t been enough to mend the fracture completely. It ached and he whined in pain, still more than half-asleep as he turned his face away, nuzzling into the comforting warmth of another body lying on the hospital bed beside him.

“Angel?” Calum asked gently, his tone concerned as he peered down at the older boy through tired eyes. “How’re you feeling?”

“ _Cal_ ,” Ashton whimpered, his grazed face crumpling as the events of the night before rushed back to him. He almost couldn’t breathe as he remembered the terrifying feeling of the burning saltwater rushing into his lungs or the crack of his bones as he slammed into the rocks. His hands curled in the sheets, a broken sound tearing out of him as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his heart clenching horribly as he felt the waves dragging him under again, extinguishing his panicked flames without care as he sank like a stone.

The dark teeming waters around him disappeared jarringly when Calum’s shaking hands settled on his cheeks and Ashton let out a soft sob, slumping forwards so that his flaming face was buried in the warm skin of the younger boy’s neck, his ribs aching dully at the stretch.

“Breathe with me, c’mon,” Calum murmured, taking deep deliberate breaths for the older boy to copy as he gently rubbed his back, his palm tracing the scar. For several long minutes, the only noises in the room were the beeping of the machines the Crown Prince was hooked up to and their slow breathing as Ashton gradually regained control of himself, his expression ashamed as he brushed his tears away shakily.

“There now,” Calum said softly as he smoothed the older boy’s hair away from his forehead. “There’s my good boy.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Ashton’s cheek, his lips lingering over the scars there as the Crown Prince let his eyes slide shut in weariness, his trembling fingers twisting in the younger boy’s shirt. “You’ve been so brave, angel, but you don’t have to be anymore. You’re safe now. I _promise_ you’re safe.”

Ashton nestled closer, letting out a soft sigh as Calum lay down beside him, tucking the older boy’s head safely beneath his chin.

“How’re you here, Cal?” he mumbled, his voice still a little raspy from the saltwater hurting his throat the night before. “It’s so early.”

“I snuck back in when Niall and the other healers left,” Calum admitted sheepishly, offering a half-hearted shrug. “I didn’t want you to wake up on your own, angel. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being by yourself after what happened… so I slept here instead.”

“You don’t _look_ like you did much sleeping,” Ashton pointed out quietly, taking in the bruise-like circles under the younger boy’s eyes as his thumb smoothed gently over one of the scrapes on Calum’s cheeks.

“Kept having nightmares,” the Prince mumbled, his shrug weaker this time as a shiver ran through him. “I dreamt that I didn’t reach you in time and… and I lost you.” He shuddered, his eyes falling shut as he cuddled the older boy closer, comforting himself with the warmth of Ashton in his arms. “I guess in a way, I was sort of being selfish by staying here last night,” Calum confessed in little more than a whisper. “I don’t think I could’ve coped without you beside me. Every time you were out of my sight, it felt like losing you all over again.”

Calum didn’t realise his own tears had overflowed until Ashton reached to cradle his cheek gently, his hazel eyes soft as he watched the younger boy lovingly.

“You didn’t lose me, curly,” he murmured as he brought Calum’s palm up to rest on his chest, right over his beating heart. “I’m right here.”

They fell quiet for a little while after that, just holding each other close as the sun rose steadily in the misty sky outside. The curtains were shut around the hospital bed, hiding the rest of the empty medical bay from view, and Ashton’s trembling slowed with each soft kiss Calum pressed to his crimson curls.

“You seem a lot calmer now,” the younger boy noted eventually, relaxing a little where his arm was wrapped warmly around the Crown Prince’s shoulders. Ashton hummed softly, his head resting in the curve of the Prince’s neck as he stirred his fingers through the still air, letting soft tongues of blue flame lick at the tips. Calum watched them in silence, mesmerised by the casual display of magic as Ashton relaxed further against him, letting the fire burn away to nothing.

“My fire is the last thing I remember last night,” Ashton said softly, his hazel eyes glassy as he pressed a little closer into the younger boy's warmth. “The flames went out when I hit the water. Everything was dark after that.”

“And that’s all you remember?” Calum asked in a hushed voice, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “There’s nothing else?”

“Not… not exactly,” Ashton admitted, shrugging uneasily as he picked idly at the blanket draped over him. “There are flashes. I know I hurt… really, _really_ badly… and I remember Laura was there… and Niall… and you, Cal. Most of all you.” His words were still a little hoarse and his eyes grew damp as he held the younger boy’s gaze, feeling helpless and small where he was aching beneath the sheets. “I don’t want to think about it anymore,” he said shakily. “It’s too much.”

“Then let’s talk about something else,” Calum suggested kindly, searching quickly for a subject change as he entwined their fingers, dwelling on the fire that had been present there only a few moments before. “How about you tell me how your magic first manifested?” he asked hesitantly, his full lips curving into an encouraging smile when the older boy looked up at him thoughtfully. “I don’t think we’ve shared those stories before.”

Ashton considered the request as he shifted under the blankets, his brow creasing at the spike of pain in his ankle although his breathing remained calm. It helped that Calum was stroking his back gently where his hand had slipped beneath the hospital gown, his palm comforting against the scarred skin as he pressed a kiss to the older boy’s forehead. After a moment of hesitation, Ashton shrugged, not seeing the harm in sharing his story.

“It’s not very exciting,” he said honestly, looking a little sheepish. “I really wasn’t kidding yesterday when I said I was a pain in the arse as a kid. I had a tantrum in my bedroom one day when I was about three and managed to burn the curtains down. That’s literally it.”

Calum sniggered at the chagrined expression on the older boy’s grazed face, his chocolate brown eyes softening as his palm rose to cradle Ashton’s soft cheek.

“My story is delightfully mundane too,” Calum confessed, looking relieved. “I was probably around four I think. Mum told me to get out of the bath but I wasn’t done playing with my incredibly exciting watering can and, somehow, I managed to flood the entire bathroom. Mali naturally found the whole thing highly amusing.” He smiled bashfully at the fondness in Ashton’s pretty eyes, his cheeks heating a little. “I think there’s still a watermark on the floor to this day actually. Clearly I’m far too powerful when I get over-excited.”

Ashton let out a soft giggle, tucking his face back into the younger boy’s neck as Calum resumed carding his fingertips gently through the older boy’s curls. The atmosphere felt calm around them and the Prince couldn't suppress his smile as he cuddled Ashton closer, so glad that he'd got to hear his beautiful laughter again.

“I love you, angel,” Calum murmured, his dark eyes crinkling when the Crown Prince shot him a warm glance. “Just in case you’d forgotten.”

“I didn’t forget, curly,” Ashton promised quietly, tilting his head back to press a soft kiss to the younger boy’s jaw. “It just so happens that I love you too.”

The curtains around the bed parted unexpectedly, making them both jump enough that Ashton groaned in pain when he jarred his ankle and ribs.

“We’re not interrupting anything, are we?” Anne asked wryly, the forced humour in her voice not quite enough to stamp out the concern burning in her eyes. Her husband stood beside her, looking as though he hadn’t got so much as a wink of sleep the night before. Ashton relaxed unconsciously at the sight of his parents, still lying slumped against Calum’s chest as the Prince blushed, avoiding the knowing expressions on their faces.

He seemed to be fighting the urge to pull away and Ashton was glad Calum proved brave enough to remain beside him. He felt safer in the younger boy’s arms and that feeling of comfort only expanded when Calum pressed a soft kiss to his curls, almost defiant as he cuddled the Crown Prince closer.

“Morning,” Ashton mumbled, his voice still a little croaky from choking on the saltwater. “I’m sorry if I scared you last night.”

“If?!” Fletcher repeated, letting out a huff of slightly strangled laughter as he raked his fingers through his greying hair. “He’s sorry _if_ he scared us, dear.”

“I’m not sure how to put this delicately, love,” Anne began, fixing her son with a stern look which went no way to masking the fondness and relief she could feel. “But that would have to be a resounding ‘ _definitely_ ’. I’m quite certain I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

Ashton groaned, turning his flushed face away into Calum’s neck as the guilt and shame surged inside him.

“I’m sorry, both of you,” he said quietly, watching them furtively from the safety of the Prince's arms. “You don’t have to worry now though. Calum _saved_ me. I owe him my life.”

“Then we’re very lucky he was there to help,” Anne said sincerely, her gaze flickering to the Prince's face as he blushed, his palms smoothing comfortingly over Ashton's shoulders. “Calum, we’re indebted to you. I hope you know how grateful we are.”

“Of course,” he murmured, clearly self-conscious and only growing more so when the older boy glanced up at him, his lips quirking into a crooked smile.

“I don’t think we’ll need to worry so much about international relationships in the future either,” Fletcher joked suddenly, apparently keen to share the embarrassment with his son too although he appeared to be feeling awkward. “It looks like the pair of you are getting along just fine.”

“ _Dad_ ,” Ashton groaned, a heavy sigh escaping him. “Please don’t be weird about this.”

“Weird?” Fletcher repeated, looking more than a little hurt. He’d been carrying a pile of his son's clean clothes up until that moment but he set the garments down at the foot of the bed, his face creasing into a frown. “Why would I be weird about the two of you?”

“Well, you were weird when I was dating Luke,” Ashton pointed out, shooting Calum a guilty look which eased when the younger boy squeezed his hand wordlessly. “I know you were ashamed.”

“Love…” Anne looked between her son and husband helplessly before she shot Calum a wary glance, clearly uncomfortable with them arguing in front of the Tenebran Prince like this.

“What? He was!” Ashton said defensively, grimacing when he folded his arms and the ache in his ribs became more pronounced. “I’m just stating facts, mum. He knows how he behaved.”

“Ash,” Calum interjected softly, biting his lip at what could only be described as misery unfolding on the King’s face. “Try to relax, angel. You’re hurting yourself.” Ashton’s expression twisted with pain as he rubbed his palm over the bruising on his ribs, letting out a heavy sigh as he slumped back against the pillows, hoping very much that someone would be along with something to numb the pain soon.

“Ash…” Fletcher glanced at Anne and Calum uncertainly before he moved closer to the edge of the bed, his palm coming to rest gently on Ashton's tightly-curled fist. Fletcher sighed quietly as his shoulders slumped under the weight of what he was about to say. “Ash, I… I _never_ had a problem with your relationship with Luke,” he said softly, his tone beseeching. “I thought you realised that.”

“You’re serious?” Ashton asked in surprise as he frowned at his father in confusion. “Then why didn’t you want us going to events together? Why the need for secrecy?”

“Because I knew how the press would treat the pair of you,” Fletcher said sadly, his expression wretched as Anne reached to cover his hand gently where it was resting over their son’s. “Because I wrongly assumed that you weren't strong enough to deal with that… but I can see now that you were strong enough all along.”

Ashton’s exhausted eyes had grown suspiciously damp at his father’s words and he sniffed when the King reached to cradle his grazed cheek for a moment, his gaze loving.

“It was never your choices that made me act that way, Ash,” Fletcher promised gently. “I _love_ you and I hate that I ever gave you cause to believe I was ashamed of you.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, relaxing a little when Anne’s free hand came to rest comfortingly on his shoulder. “Feeling ashamed of you would be impossible, Ash. You’re the thing I’m most proud of.”

“Don't make me cry,” Ashton said thickly, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he gripped his father’s hand tightly. “My ribs are already hurting.”

“Niall will be along soon,” Anne said softly, offering a faint smile at Calum’s relieved look. “We bumped into him on our way up here. He shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Which leads us onto our next point,” Fletcher interjected smoothly, still looking a little teary-eyed at the relief and love blazing on his son’s face. “We’re not sure how you feel about this but… well, we’d like you to learn to swim, Ash. I know you were against it in the past but, in the light of recent events, it seemed prudent to revisit that.”

“I’ve been telling him the same thing since I met him,” Calum said, wincing good-naturedly when the older boy shot him a weak scowl.

“Traitor,” Ashton muttered, shuddering at the dread rising inside him as he remembered competing in the Impedimentum for a moment. The horror he’d felt upon seeing the vast lake stretching out in front of him had been awful and he knew he was about to become intimately acquainted with those emotions now if his parents were serious about this.

The worst thing about this situation was that he knew they were right too. It _was_ dangerous that he'd refused to learn to swim as a child; that much had been proved during the Venari and the nightmarish events in Flos Bay the night before. Ashton’s fear of swimming had already almost killed him twice. He might not be so lucky a third time.

“It might not be so bad,” Calum said softly, apparently able to detect by the tensing of the older boy’s muscles that Ashton was growing anxious. “I really did mean it when I said I’d teach you, angel.” His chocolate brown eyes twinkled when the Crown Prince shot him a nervous look, his full lips curving into a reassuring smile. “We’re leaving for Tenebris in a day or two, right? So if you promise to avoid any large bodies of water before then, I’m sure your first lesson can wait until we get there. That’ll give you time to heal up too.”

“That would be wonderful, Calum,” Anne said gratefully, her tone warm. “You’ll be sure to keep him safe? I’m sure you’ve realised by now that he’s more than a little accident-prone.”

Ashton’s squawk of outrage was hidden under Calum’s laughter as he dropped a kiss onto the older boy’s vibrant curls, his dark eyes crinkling with warmth.

“I’ll look after him,” Calum promised, relaxing visibly when he received relieved smiles from the King and Queen. “He’ll be swimming like a fish before you know it.”

“I’m nothing _like_ a fish,” Ashton said sulkily, pouting mostly for dramatic effect. “None of you know what you’re talking about.”

“Meanie,” Calum said with great dignity. “If you weren’t hurt right now, I’d definitely tickle you.”

“There’ll be no tickling of the patient please,” Niall announced as he breezed into the medical bay, looking remarkably refreshed considering his exhaustion and stress the night before. “It’s good to see you awake, Ashton,” he said as he approached the bed, already reaching for the stethoscope hanging around his neck so that he could check the Crown Prince's heartbeat after Michael's overly enthusiastic shocking yesterday. “You really do need to stop scaring us like this.”

“How is he?” Fletcher asked worriedly, giving his son a gentle reprimanding poke on the nose when Ashton rolled his eyes in embarrassment.

“He’ll live,” Niall said firmly, fixing the Crown Prince with the sort of look where he seemed to be daring him to disagree. “His heart and lungs are working as they should be – we focused on the damage there last night. We weren’t able to fix his ankle and ribs completely yesterday as his body was already overwhelmed; it would have caused more harm than good if we’d been too generous with the healing magic.” Niall looked between Calum and Ashton’s parents with a slightly pointed expression on his face. “If you three would like to vanish somewhere, I can get Ashton healed up now. I’m sure he doesn’t want you watching him in that delightful hospital gown.”

“Think you meant _horrible_ hospital gown,” Ashton corrected, still pouting faintly. He reached for Calum though, curling his fingers hopefully around the younger boy’s wrist as Fletcher and Anne departed after warm goodbyes. Calum looked pleasantly surprised as he held the older boy’s gaze and Niall glanced between the two of them for a moment before shrugging, apparently accepting that the Prince’s presence would make Ashton feel better.

“Fair enough,” Niall murmured. “Let’s get that ankle fixed first.”

“Thank you,” the Crown Prince breathed, relaxing back against Calum with a shiver as the warmth of the blankets was replaced with the cool air of the medical bay. Calum gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, his lips brushing the older boy’s forehead as Niall settled his palms firmly on Ashton’s ankle, making him wince.

“Don’t think I don’t know you stayed here last night either, Calum,” Niall added distractedly as he focused on the bruising staining the Crown Prince’s injured ankle. “Do you really think we don’t perform checks on our high-risk patients during the night? My colleagues were most surprised to find you two curled up together at four o’clock this morning.”

“Oops,” Calum said unapologetically, making Ashton snigger. Niall failed to keep the smile from spreading across his face.

“Ribs next,” the healer said lightly, his blue eyes soft as he worked to reduce the dark bruising there too. “Y’know, it’s nice to see you two so happy this morning. After the accusations last night, I was a little worried that –”

“Ash doesn’t want to talk about last night,” Calum interjected quickly, biting his lip when Ashton looked up at him uncertainly. “I'm sure we can talk about things more when he's had time to process what happened. There’s no point dwelling on it now.”

“Right…” Niall frowned for a moment before his expression smoothed as he straightened up. “Well, Ash, that’s about all I can do. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you,” the Crown Prince said hesitantly, still looking a little puzzled. “My throat will stop hurting soon too, right?”

“It’s still bothering you?” Niall bit his lip for a moment before he reached out to settle his palm lightly against Ashton’s neck, making him swallow reflexively. A brief flicker of concentration saturated Niall’s expression before the familiar warmth of his magic radiated out into the Crown Prince’s skin, reducing the ache to nothing at all. “There. All better?”

“Much,” Ashton said, looking much brighter now, his smile only growing when the older man began to unhook him from the machines. “Thank you, Niall.”

“Anything for my favourite patient,” the healer teased with a tired grin. “You’re free to go now, Ash. Just make sure you let me know if anything starts hurting again, okay? You should know the drill by now.”

“Yessir,” Ashton said sarcastically, squirming when Calum tickled his newly-healed ribs in reprimand. “Are you gonna be this sardonic when we go to Tenebris? Because if you are, I’ll just send you back home with my parents when they fly out to watch the challenges. I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.”

“Stop grumbling!” Calum complained, snickering with laughter when he saw Niall rolling his eyes dramatically. “You’re even more of a drama queen than I realised. And really – _sardonic_? Niall, did you give him magical thesaurus powers while you were healing him?”

“Just go away,” the healer groaned, trying to keep from laughing. “Get out of my medical bay. I don’t want to see you back here.”

“Fine!” Ashton said, sniggering in amusement. “Just let me change into my own clothes and I swear we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Better get on with it then,” Niall joked, already turning away to start tidying up although he snagged Calum’s sleeve on the way past. “You can come with me, Cal. He doesn’t need you distracting him.”

*

Aside from Ashton’s soft cursing as he struggled into his clothes behind the curtains, the medical bay was mostly quiet. The only other sounds came from Niall rummaging in a cupboard of supplies nearby, clearing performing some sort of inventory as he made notes on his comm. He seemed very focused on the task and Calum hesitated behind him awkwardly, the minutes dragging by now that the healer had told him in no uncertain terms to leave Ashton alone to get dressed.

“Hey, Niall, can I have a quick word?” Calum asked quietly as he drifted a little closer. He shot another fond glance towards the curtains circling the Crown Prince’s hospital bed, feeling that same rush of relief stealing the air from his lungs. When he turned back, Niall was watching him with a surprising amount of gentleness, his expression just a touch knowing.

“Sure, Cal,” the older man said quietly, jerking his head towards the far end of the room where they could talk in private. Calum loped along behind him easily enough, his hands buried in the pockets of jeans dried stiff with saltwater from the night before. “What’s up?”

“Nothing really,” Calum said with a shrug. “I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for Ash. I never told you how grateful I was before because… well, your abilities scared the shit out of me. Kind of still do if I’m being honest with myself but… you deserve to be told. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to do it sooner.”

“Oh,” Niall breathed, his face lighting up as his lips curved into an unconscious smile. “That’s okay, Cal. You don’t have to apologise. I know you’re grateful.”

“Using your abilities doesn’t count,” Calum said pointedly, offering a weak grin. “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“I do,” Niall said honestly, his expression becoming a little more serious. “Thank you.” He bit his lip suddenly, glancing towards where Ashton was still trying to struggle into his jeans before the healer took a half-step closer, lowering his voice. “While I’ve got you here, I need to talk to you about last night and… something I noticed earlier.”

“What is it?” Calum asked uncertainly, too tired for guessing games. “Is something wrong?”

“Not yet,” Niall said bleakly, spreading his hands in apology. “I know you’re aware of Luke’s accusations on the cliff last night… and I know you know that those allegations weren’t unfounded.” When Calum seemed content to simply watch him, Niall sighed quietly, his arms folding loosely across his chest. “Cal, Luke overheard you and Mali that night on the balcony. He heard you talking about your father’s plans for Ashton – which, may I just mention, are treasonous – and by now, the others will have heard what was discussed too.”

Calum’s back hit the wall although Niall had made no move to crowd him up against it. The healer was simply watching him instead, his voice growing softer still as he counted off the names on his fingers: “Michael, Ashley, Laura, and Sierra… They’re all going to _know_ , Cal. Do you understand why I’m telling you this?”

“Because you think I should tell Ashton,” Calum whispered, his dark eyes damp as he stared down at the floor.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Niall said gently. “I want you to do what you think is the right thing.”

Calum’s expression quickly became agonised, his fingers curling in his dark hair as he glanced once more towards where Ashton was hidden behind the curtain, entirely unaware of the Prince’s turmoil. Calum thought again of the conversation he’d shared with his sister that night on the balcony and his guilt threatened to cripple him completely.

“I… I _will_ tell him the truth, Niall,” he said weakly, his voice little more than a whisper. “I know he deserves to know but… I’m scared.” It felt wrong to share his innermost thoughts now – to voice the emotions he’d always been taught to hide – but there was little reason to mask his feelings around Niall. The empath had been able to see through him from the beginning.

“Scared of what?” the older man asked softly, his blue gaze gentle in the early morning light.

“Scared he’ll leave me if he finds out why I was sent here,” Calum whispered, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as the tears prickled menacingly. “I can’t lose him, Niall. I _can’t_.”

“You will if you lie to him, Cal,” the healer said quietly, his words brutally honest. “How do you think he’d feel if he found out you hadn’t trusted him with the truth? It’ll hurt him enough when he finds out your father’s plans. You don’t want to make this harder for him than it needs to be.”

“Niall,” Calum whispered, his cheeks growing damp as the first tears began to roll. “Niall, tell me what to do.”

“You already know what to do,” the older man said softly. “Treat Ashton the way he deserves, the way you’d want him to treat you.”

Calum dried his eyes with the tissue Niall wordlessly passed him, the healer’s pale face softening further as the Prince hid his emotions behind the mask he’d been wearing his whole life.

“Give Ashton a chance to accept you, Cal. To _really_ accept you,” Niall said gently, his tone imploring. “He’s stronger than you know… and acceptance is his decision alone to make. He deserves to be given the choice.”

“I _will_ tell him the truth, Niall,” Calum murmured, forcing himself to straighten up and bury his anguish. “I just need to find the right time.”

The curtains around the bed squeaked open behind them and the pair turned sharply, both of them blushing a little as Ashton ambled over, barely limping at all after he’d broken his ankle the night before.

“Sorry about that,” the Crown Prince said, his dimples creasing his cheeks infectiously. “Skinny jeans and recently-healed broken bones aren’t a good mix apparently.” He rolled his eyes at himself, apparently oblivious to the tension between Calum and Niall as they carefully avoided making eye contact. “So… what did I miss?”

“Nothing, angel,” Calum reassured him, reaching to wrap his arm automatically around the older boy’s waist as Niall turned away, his lips pressed flatly together. “Nothing at all.”

Calum led Ashton out of the medical bay as quickly as he could, his heart pounding unpleasantly in his chest as the older boy chattered away beside him, relieved to be free of pain and the gown he’d hated so much. Calum supposed that made sense though because, after so long being trapped in a hospital bed due to the injuries he’d sustained fighting on the Boneflats, any visit now – no matter how brief – must have been an unwelcome reminder.

The sun had already cleared the horizon by the time they started down the corridor outside and Ashton quietened when he saw it, gazing out silently at the gardens through the windows as he appreciated the fact that he was still alive to see another sunrise. Calum pressed a kiss to his curls without meaning to, choked up with how much he loved the older boy tucked safely under his arm.

The guilt was burning inside him again and, quite suddenly, he realised that there would never be a better time than right now, when Ashton was feeling lucky to be alive and the memory of Calum’s rescue attempt still lingered on the fringes of his consciousness like the sunshine glowing golden outside.

Calum knew he needed to tell him the truth and he tensed as the resolve flooded through him. There was no time like the present and he was just drawing Ashton to a gentle stop, his cheeks heating as the older boy gazed up at him in confusion, when a sudden cry broke the quiet of the corridor, startling them both terribly.

“Ash! You’re awake!”

Calum looked up with a grimace, inwardly resigning himself to the missed opportunity as Sierra rushed down the corridor towards them, her cheeks streaked with tears as she all but threw herself into Ashton’s arms. He let out a huff of breath when she crashed into him but his expression was undeniably pleased as he drew her into a warm hug, one hand rubbing her back soothingly as she let out a sob.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” she cried into his neck, looking devastated all over again. “I should’ve been there but… but I went back to get my jacket and then I got hit by a _transport_ on the way back and then… then it was already too late!” she wailed, seemingly on the verge of fresh tears as Ashton stared down at her in dismay, his hazel eyes widening.

“A _transport_?!” he demanded, horrified. “Are you okay?! Were you badly hurt?”

“Yeah, I… I promise I’m fine,” she said shakily, drying her eyes with the back of her hand as she struggled to get herself back under control again. “It’s _you_ I was worried about.” She drew in a shuddering breath, straightening up with a stubbornness that impressed Calum even despite his frustration at her interruption. “It seems we both survived last night after all. I guess the Purgatio are losing their touch.”

Ashton shivered at the mention of them, his hazel eyes growing steely as he gave Sierra’s arm a gentle squeeze. She winced and he fixed her with a hard look.

“You’re still hurt?” he asked, his brow creasing. She shrugged uneasily.

“In the commotion last night, my elbow didn’t get healed,” she admitted, rolling her sleeve back to show a worryingly large bruise marring the tanned skin around the swollen joint. “I was going to get Niall to fix it this morning after I spoke to your dad.”

“My dad?” Ashton bit his lip as Calum watched her apprehensively, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. “What did you need to talk to my dad about? Like, a debriefing after yesterday?”

“Not… not quite,” she mumbled, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I… I tried to quit my job but… he wouldn’t let me. He said he genuinely trusts me to do my best to keep you safe…” She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I just wish my best had been good enough.”

“Please don’t say that,” Ashton chided gently, his fingers entwining with hers for a moment as she looked up at him miserably. “You keep me safe all the time. So what if last night you couldn’t do anything? _Nobody_ had time to react – nobody but Cal – and besides, your magic doesn’t work that way. What were you going to do exactly? Freeze the entire ocean?”

Sierra let out a snort of surprised laughter and Ashton relaxed, drawing her into a gentler hug as she rested her head on his shoulder for a moment.

“Don’t quit your job, Fearless Protector,” he mumbled into her dark hair, comforting himself with the fact that she was safe. “I need you.”

“Alright, Your Illustriousness,” she said softly, ducking her head in a rare display of shyness. “Anything for you.”

“Go get your elbow fixed,” Ashton urged her, leaning into the warmth of Calum’s side as the weariness rose inside him. “We can catch up later.”

“Okay,” she said, shooting him a tired smile as she eased past them in the corridor. “Take care of yourself, Ash.” She hesitated, fixing the Prince with a fleeting apprehensive look. “Bye, Hood.”

She disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived and, working to suppress the unease rising inside him, Calum glanced down in time to catch Ashton’s slight frown. He was staring after her in confusion, his lip drawn between his teeth. The younger boy drew him a little closer, his arm wrapped warmly around the Crown Prince’s waist as he pressed a lingering kiss to his vibrant curls.

“You look tired, angel,” Calum said gently, his eyes flickering warily after Sierra. “How about we get you back to your room, yeah? Then you can relax a bit.”

“Yeah, that… that sounds nice,” Ashton said slowly, still sounding a little distracted. “Can we watch films, curly?”

“Of course,” Calum promised, his heart skipping a beat in his chest when the older boy smiled up at him, his lips curving as slow as honey. “Anything for my good boy.”

The moment the words had slipped out, the Prince hated himself for them. Even if he’d meant them wholeheartedly, they still felt like a lie and the guilt inside at the prospect of keeping secrets from Ashton felt like the worst thing in the world in that moment. His fingertips dug subtly into his thigh as he led the older boy back towards his bedroom but the ache of it didn’t feel like anywhere near enough.

“You’re quiet,” Ashton noted softly as they headed for the royal apartments. “Is something wrong, curly?”

“No,” Calum said quickly. _Another lie_. “I’m just tired too… and not particularly looking forward to leaving here soon. I’m going to miss it badly.”

“Well, you can always come back,” Ashton pointed out, his tone clearly a little more hopeful than he’d been intending if the way his cheeks heated was any indication. “There’ll always be a place for you in Claritas.”

He gave the younger boy’s hand a comforting squeeze and Calum clung onto him for dear life, refusing to let go the entire walk back to the Crown Prince’s rooms. Ashton let out a relieved sigh once the door was shut behind them, kicking his trainers off and slumping down dramatically onto his bed as the light from the fish tank bathed him in a gentle glow. He looked so innocent lying there that Calum’s guilt began to boil inside once more as the waters in the tank grew choppier.

“Cal?” Ashton’s voice was soft and hesitant as he pushed himself into a sitting position, his curls rumpled. “What’s -”

“I love your red hair,” Calum interrupted with just a hint of desperation. “It suits you so much.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Ashton mumbled, blushing a little as he smiled down bashfully at the blankets. “Thank you. I… I think I want to dye it again. Maybe tomorrow, before we fly out for Tenebris.”

Calum withered a little at the mention of his own nation, clutching on to the change of topic like a life saver. “You should!” he said, injecting a note of enthusiasm into his voice that felt just a little too false. “I think I’d like to join you. Not red though. That’s your colour.” The older boy grinned, looking more excited than he had done all morning as he visibly perked up at the Prince’s words. “Any suggestions, angel?”

“Hmmm…” Ashton looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before his hazel eyes twinkled with mischief as the younger boy sat down on the edge of the bed. “I think you’d look good blond, Cal.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Calum murmured, his pulse racing in his veins when the older boy reached to cradle his cheeks gently. “Well, we’ll have to see what we can do, angel.”

Ashton rolled his pretty eyes fondly, leaning closer to brush his lips feather-light over Calum’s. For just a moment, the younger boy let himself sink into the comfort it offered before his heart clenched horribly in his chest, sending him pulling away without processing it.

“I… I’ll just be a minute,” Calum muttered, almost tripping in his haste to reach the bathroom. He shut the door behind him shakily, leaning against the sink as he drew in a ragged gasping breath. His dark curls fell into his eyes and he tangled his fingers in them painfully, only feeling his chest tighten more as he processed what he’d agreed to do.

He’d been so desperate to make Ashton happy and keep the older boy close by his side that Calum figured he probably would have agreed to anything in that moment - anything at _all_ \- except telling the Crown Prince the truth. Every time he caught a glimpse of his reflection, the hair dye would be a constant reminder that he had been too weak to treat Ashton the way he deserved, with honesty and love.

The self-loathing Calum felt then was almost too much to cope with as he crumpled down onto the edge of the bath, his fingernails biting bluntly into his thighs through his jeans. He’d been raised like this, taught to keep his secrets buried bone-deep, and he hated that he’d never been able to stamp that practice out… hated that it was probably something that would ruin him for the rest of his life.

The porcelain of the bath was cold under him but he could barely feel the burning sting of his nails digging into his skin. He hesitated for a moment, his breaths coming too fast as he reached to unzip his jeans, shoving them down around his knees. He set his nails into his thighs with barely a second of indecision, gritting his teeth as he raked them down over the sensitive skin, leaving raised red marks behind.

He’d never done this before and he gasped weakly, his head spinning as he folded in on himself, his fingers interlocking where they were laced across the back of his neck. His eyes were prickling with tears, his legs burning where he’d torn at his own skin.

The ache in his chest had lessened a little but it was quickly replaced with shame and he felt sick as he staggered to his feet, righting his clothes with shaking hands as he washed his face at the sink. He tried to avoid catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, quite certain that he wouldn’t like what he found staring back at him.

He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths before he left the bathroom behind, forcing what would hopefully be a convincing smile across his lips. He flopped down onto the bed as soon as he was close enough, wincing at the ache in his thighs as he tucked his face away into Ashton’s stomach. The older boy let out a sleepy hum of amusement, his movements sluggish as he reached to stroke the Prince’s curls gently. Clearly, his weariness had caught up with him while Calum was in the bathroom and the younger boy was glad of that for a moment, at least until Ashton opened his mouth and spoke again.

“I love you, curly,” he murmured, still petting Calum’s curls gently as he snuggled down beside him in the pillows. “Thank you for saving me.” He pressed a soft kiss to the younger boy’s nose, his hazel eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Thank you for always looking after me.”

A lump rose in Calum’s throat as he cuddled Ashton tighter, tucking his face away into the older boy’s neck as he clung to him.

“I love you too,” he breathed, afraid to speak any louder in case his voice cracked. “I wish you knew how much.”

*

Laura still couldn’t believe the events of last night had really happened.

She lay silently on her mattress, one hand tucked behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling. She felt… strange. The relief of rescuing Ashton last night had pushed her and Michael into each other’s arms, and the reality of their intimacy felt too good to be true in the morning light. She was afraid he’d wake up and leave her; afraid that this was all he’d wanted from the beginning. She’d heard stories about boys like that from the girls at school and she hated the thought that maybe she’d fallen into that trap too.

She pressed her lips together hard, drawing in a deep breath as she forced herself to relax beneath the blankets. She was being ridiculous; she _knew_ she was. Michael loved her – his sparks shone gold when he was with her – and that was all she should be focusing on; not the idle gossip of schoolgirls she never spoke to anymore.

Michael had been so gentle with her last night, their nervous laughter filling the darkness as they clung to each other, too afraid to let go. He’d cried afterwards, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as she pressed kisses to his forehead, holding him close. Those were the memories she needed to remember now; nothing else – not even her insecurities – were of any real consequence to their relationship.

He stirred beside her, rolling closer with one arm resting beneath the pillow as he snuggled into the warm material, his cherry-red lips parted in a contented sigh. His sandy hair looked soft in the morning light, shining like gold against the pale lavender of the pillowcase. Laura reached to stroke his cheek unthinkingly, her fingertips lightly tracing the pearly skin.

One emerald eye flickered open and, after a moment of surprise, he smiled sheepishly as the events of last night returned to him.

“Morning, sparky,” she murmured, tangling their legs idly beneath the blankets. He blushed at the feeling of their bare skin touching, his trembling fingers searching for hers as she squeezed his hand comfortingly.

“Hey, petal,” he whispered back, looking nothing short of wonderstruck. “I’m glad you’re still here. I sort of thought maybe you’d have left.”

“This is _my_ bedroom,” she pointed out wryly, even as her heart fluttered at the thought that he’d shared her fears too. “But you don’t need to worry on that score, sparky. They’d need a crowbar to keep me away from you.”

“A crowbar?” he repeated, rolling his eyes fondly. “How romantic.”

“I can grow flowers out of thin air,” she said grumpily, trying to keep from smiling as she twisted her fingers, allowing a daisy to bloom in her palm. “How much more romantic do you want me to get?”

“You could make us breakfast?” Michael asked hopefully, only to giggle and squirm away when she tickled him in reprimand. “Stop it!” he gasped, trying so desperately to escape from her that he toppled right over the side of the bed. Laura bit her lip, trying hard not to laugh as she crawled to the edge of the mattress, only to discover him lying flat on his back on the carpet, his crumpled clothes from the night before squashed under him as he covered his eyes with his wrist.

“You okay down there, sparky?” she asked, an awkward grin tugging at her lips when he blinked up at her, his gaze drifting automatically to her lack of clothing.

“I was right the night of the Gala,” he said with just a hint of smugness. “Your boobs really _are_ amazing.”

“Stop it!” she groaned, laughing unwillingly as she leant down to smack him weakly on the shoulder. “You horrible boy.”

“ _Your_ horrible boy?” he asked hopefully, his eyes sparkling in the pale light.

Laura softened, her fingertips stroking his cheekbone as she lay there looking down at him.

“Always,” she said gently, her heart feeling too big for her chest. “Always, sparky.”

He stayed lying there on the carpet for a moment longer before they reached for each other at the same time, their fingers tangling as Laura helped him back up onto the mattress. He pressed a shy kiss to her cheek once he was comfortable and she smiled against his lips, her palm rubbing soothingly over his bicep.

“I love you,” she said, the words soft and quiet.

He let a single golden spark burn in the air between them, his expression saturated with contentment as he drew her back in for another longer kiss.

“Looks like I love you too.”

*

Michael couldn’t tear his gaze away from Laura.

She looked so beautiful sitting at her dressing table, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight streaming in through the window behind her. She was clad in a light cotton dress, apparently keen to enjoy the warmth of Claritas for as long as possible before the group flew to the cooler climes of Tenebris for the second half of the Elevare. Her pale skin shone and Michael had to sit on his hands to keep from touching her as she applied her makeup, so in love with her that it almost hurt him in that moment.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Laura asked bashfully when she caught his gaze briefly in the mirror. She was blushing as she leant closer to concentrate on keeping her eyeliner neat and Michael couldn’t stop himself from smiling at how lovely she was.

“I just can’t believe how lucky I am to have you,” he said softly, his lips still curved up happily as he lowered his gaze, fiddling with the hem of the t-shirt he’d borrowed. It had belonged to Luke once upon a time but Laura had stolen it to wear as a nightshirt long ago and, despite it being just a little too wide for Michael’s shoulders, he was very grateful for it. The last thing he wanted was to put on the saltwater-splattered clothes he’d saved Ashton’s life in the night before.

“I feel pretty lucky myself,” Laura murmured, speaking almost too quietly to hear. She combed her fingers absently through her long wavy hair before she turned to face him, cocking her head to one side curiously. “Breakfast?” she suggested, her eyes sparkling. “I don’t think anyone else is home. It won’t be weird.”

“Sure,” Michael agreed, relaxing visibly. “How do you _know_ that no one else is here?”

“Normally they make a racket in the morning,” Laura said, shrugging. “I can’t sleep in because mum likes to sing along to the radio and dad tries to continue chatting to her while he’s showering. They’d be cute if it wasn’t so annoying.”

“Sounds pretty cute to me,” Michael admitted as they got to their feet, tangling their fingers automatically.

“C’mon,” she said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment. “I’m hungry.”

He followed her out of the bedroom easily enough, feeling altogether too dazed with happiness to pay attention to his surroundings. She froze in front of him and he only noticed this after walking straight into her which resulted in him winding himself slightly.

“Petal? Why’d you – _Oh_.” He faltered as he stared across at the dining table in shock, his cheeks flushing scarlet. Laura’s parents were seated enjoying a quiet breakfast with Luke and Niall, and the four of them were all blatantly staring at the new arrivals, their lips curving with barely-veiled amusement.

“Well, this is awkward,” Laura breathed, blushing a worrying shade of red. “Hi, guys. Didn’t… didn’t realise you were still home… and Niall! You’re here too. This is…”

“Awkward sums it up fairly well,” the healer replied with a tired sort of grin, making Luke snigger beside him. “Morning, you two. Wondered where you’d disappeared to last night.”

“Oh, don’t be so cruel,” Mrs Hemmings said warmly, her eyes twinkling as she gestured to the two empty chairs remaining at the table. “Come and sit down, both of you. Join us for breakfast.”

Michael stood frozen for a moment before Laura gently nudged him in the direction of the table. He stumbled for a moment before he got a grip of himself, taking a couple of deep steadying breaths before a weak smile curved his lips.

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr and Mrs Hemmings,” he said as politely as he could, trying to ignore Luke’s snickering as he hid his amusement behind his mug of coffee. Beside him, Niall’s expression had grown mildly sympathetic, almost as though he felt guilty for using the awkwardness of the situation for his boyfriend’s amusement.

“Coffee?” Luke asked them, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Laura scowled at him, her pretty eyes flashing.

“Yes, please,” she said coolly. “Mikey will have one too. He takes his with milk, no sugar.” She saw her brother open his mouth to reply and rolled her eyes skyward. “Yes, lofty, because he’s sweet enough already. Now stop enjoying this so much.”

“Surely it’s too early for squabbling,” Mrs Hemmings said, her lips quirking into a smile as she began to toast some more bread. “It’s very nice to finally meet you though, Mike. We’ve all heard such a lot about you.”

“ _Mum_ ,” Laura groaned, burying her head in her hands. “Stop it.”

“Well, she’s not lying, dear,” Mr Hemmings pointed out, smiling sheepishly when Michael’s gaze flickered to his weathered face. He seemed less talkative than his wife but they both appeared friendly enough and Michael relaxed a little, his knee brushing against Laura’s lightly beneath the table as he calmed himself with the contact.

“Would you like some eggs, Mike?” Mrs Hemmings asked warmly, proffering the dish to him. “Or maybe some nice fruit salad?”

“Luke likes fruit salad,” Niall muttered out of nowhere, nudging his boyfriend inexplicably as the younger boy spluttered, his cheeks flaming. He inhaled some of his coffee and Mr Hemmings appeared quite perplexed as he leant over to thump his son on the back, leaving Luke gasping and teary-eyed as he shot Niall a betrayed look, still blushing like a tomato.

“I… I think I’ll just stick to eggs,” Michael said faintly, eyeing Niall’s smirk with distrust. “Thank you, Mrs –”

“Liz,” she corrected him, her tone kind. “I insist you call me Liz… and my husband is Andy, okay? First names will do fine, thank you.”

“Of… of course,” Michael breathed, blushing a little. “Thank you, Liz.”

The six of them focused on their meal quietly after that, occasionally chattering as they passed around the dishes and discussed their plans for the day. It was a pleasant atmosphere but, despite it all, Michael felt a little wrong-footed at their easy acceptance of him. He’d expected them to be defensive or even angry but… they just seemed to want to make him comfortable instead. They didn’t seem to care about his reputation or the horrible things the press said about him. They didn’t even seem fazed by the fact that he was Tenebran or the son of famous politicians, long since gone from the world.

Maybe it was enough that he made their daughter happy. Maybe that was all they cared about.

He couldn’t imagine such unapologetic kindness from Joy and David back at the citadel. When he was young, they’d always made it very clear that they disapproved of him being so emotional or attracting unwanted attention, and he knew they’d treated Calum and Mali in the same way too, trying to guide them through life with stern deeply-buried love.

Michael felt something sour inside him as he thought about the Hood siblings though because he’d just had a horrible inkling of the conversation the group had shared on the cliff top last night after Calum had followed Ashton down into the sea. Luke had accused Calum of trying to hurt the Crown Prince and, while Michael remained certain this was untrue, he couldn’t discount what Mali had said about the conversation the younger Hemmings sibling had claimed to overhear.

If she’d been telling the truth, Mali and Calum really had been discussing the terrifying notion of David wanting Ashton dead… and, as that occurred to Michael now, he remembered something else unpleasant; something that sent his blood running cold in his veins.

The night on the jet to Claritas, Calum had insisted that he had only been picked as the Tenebran champion to win glory for the nation after uncle Tommy’s death. Michael knew that was a lie though. He could see the scene replaying in his head suddenly; remembered the tremble of Calum’s fingers and the way the water in his bottle was churning violently as he became upset.

David hadn’t sent his only son here simply to beat Ashton and make Claritas look bad. He’d sent Calum here to commit murder… and the Prince had kept it a secret.

He hadn’t trusted Michael – his closest, oldest friend – with the truth.

“Mikey?” Laura said softly, her blue eyes concerned. “Are you alright? You’ve gone all pale.”

“I… I…” He swallowed thickly, his eyes stinging with anxious tears that he could barely hold back. “I think I need some air,” he whispered, setting the cutlery he’d been clenching down with shaking hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologise for,” Liz said briskly, rising from the table and gesturing for Laura to follow her. “Come along, Mike. We can finish our breakfast out on the balcony.” She paused, fixing her husband with a soft look as she gathered their plates onto a tray. “Andy, you’ll entertain Luke and Niall, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Andy said quietly, his expression sympathetic as he patted Michael’s arm briefly when Laura led him past. “We’ll see you later. It was great to finally meet you, Mike.”

Liz led the pair of them out onto the balcony with the tray balanced easily against her hip, her blue eyes shimmering with concern as Laura drew Michael gently onto the bench beside her. Liz set the remains of their breakfast down on a low table nearby, her brow creasing as she crouched down in front of him, being careful to avoid the reddish-violet sparks crackling from his fingertips.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” she asked gently, her tone very soft. Michael gazed at her helplessly before he shot an anguished look at Laura and the lack of judgement on their faces only made him want to cry harder.

He didn’t know how to put into words how overwhelmed he felt at the rush of emotions rocketing through him, every one of them conflicting: his betrayal and misery at Calum and Mali keeping secrets from him; his deep-seated fear for Ashton’s continued survival; the raw breath-taking love in his chest after the night he’d spent with Laura; the ever-present ache of grief for the parents he hadn’t seen in well over a decade…

His turmoil of emotions had combined to create something frighteningly overpowering, and it was only Laura and Liz lingering so close to his sparks that allowed him to regain any sort of control at all. He shivered, lowering his head as he stared down at the faint scorch marks on the flagstones beneath his feet.

“Don’t worry about your sparks,” Laura murmured when she felt his shoulder tense under her palm, her thumb rubbing the back of his neck soothingly. “Ashton’s had a fair few meltdowns out here. This balcony has definitely survived worst.”

“You’re forgetting that summer several years ago when Luke’s bird friends decided to use it as a toilet,” Liz said with a note of such false sweetness in her tone that Michael couldn’t help letting out a faint laugh. “That was worse than sparks and fire combined.”

“Luke let me hold one of his little blue tits once,” he acknowledged, grimacing at the memory. “That bird treated my hand in much the same way.”

“That’s disgusting,” Laura said, looking relieved at his weak joke even as she wrinkled her nose at him, bumping him lightly with her shoulder. He could feel the tension leaving him as Liz came to sit on the bench beside him too and he relaxed further when Laura reached to tangle their fingers together carefully. He stroked the scarred skin covering her knuckles automatically with his free hand, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as she dropped a kiss to his hair.

“Are you feeling a bit better now, sweetheart?” Liz asked him gently, her eyes warm enough that Michael withered a little, unused to having a parental figure treating him with so much open kindness.

“Yes, thank you,” he said in a small voice, his cheeks flaming. “I… I just…” He trailed away in embarrassment but they continued to wait patiently, Liz quietly sipping her coffee as Laura pressed a kiss to his shoulder through his borrowed t-shirt. “I feel a bit… overwhelmed. The last day or so has been…”

“Eventful,” Laura finished gently when words failed him. “You’ve had to deal with a lot, Mikey. You’re perfectly entitled to feel overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, I… I guess so,” he said shakily, managing a damp smile as Liz wordlessly passed him his unfinished plate of breakfast. “I think this morning just kind of finished me off.” He laughed wetly, drying his eyes with the back of his hand before he picked tearfully at his toast and jam. “I’m not used to feeling like… like I’m part of a family.”

He hung his head at the soft sad sound that escaped Laura, biting his lip when he glimpsed Liz frowning at her daughter in confusion.

“S’okay,” Michael whispered, tearing at the toast crust between shaking fingertips. “It isn’t a secret.”

“Okay,” Laura breathed, laying her palm gently on his wrist as she caught Liz’s gaze. “Do you know much about Karen and Daryl Clifford, mum? The Tenebran politicians?”

“A little,” Liz replied, still looking puzzled. “They wanted to improve relations between Claritas and Tenebris if memory serves correctly... but they were assassinated a long time ago now.” Laura winced when Michael's teeth sank into his bottom lip so hard it went bloodless and Liz paled, her expression rapidly becoming mortified as she connected the dots.

“Oh, Mike, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” she murmured, setting her mug down with shaking hands. “I never made the connection before but…” She shook her head at herself when she saw the tears glimmering wetly on his cheeks, her expression softening as she took the plate from his limp fingers, returning it carefully to the table. “Can I hug you, sweetheart?” she asked gently. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, taking in the loving smile on Laura’s tear-streaked face with a lump in his throat in the seconds before Liz drew him gently into her arms. She smelt nice, like flowers and baking, and Michael almost couldn’t breathe with how much he missed his own mum in that moment.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting, sweetheart,” Liz murmured as she rubbed his back soothingly. “But I’m always here if you need mum cuddles, okay? They’re very special. Not everyone can provide them.”

Michael let out a watery laugh which had clearly been her intention and she hummed softly, holding him a little closer.

“You can be part of our family now,” she whispered, her voice soft enough that even Laura couldn’t hear her.

The words were only for Michael.

*

The knock on the door came as something of a relief to Ashton.

Calum had been in an odd mood all day, ever since they’d returned from the medical bay that morning. He’d been clingy and tearful at first but, when the older boy had tried to cheer him up, he’d become withdrawn. He hadn’t made proper eye contact once and Ashton felt strangely bereft without it, almost as though he’d done something to upset Calum without realising it.

He was feeling quite miserable by the time evening came and he’d grown tired of dozing or watching films. The younger boy was sleeping fitfully beside him, curled up in a tight ball on the bed as his eyes flickered beneath his lids, like he was dreaming. Ashton wanted to cry a little bit as the silence gnawed away at him but he supposed that made sense after the traumatic events of the night before.

It was natural to feel like his nerves had been scraped raw when he’d come so close to being killed. He supposed it just would’ve been nice if Calum had been trying to support him through it.

That was probably the reason he jumped up so excitedly when a knock sounded at the door: because he was overjoyed at the thought of friendly company and _not_ escaping the gloomy atmosphere that had settled over his bedroom almost without him noticing.

Laura was waiting outside, dressed in a long woollen cardigan over her dress as she crossed her arms, looking cold out in the corridor. Ashton opened the door wider to grant her access, shushing her weakly as he glanced towards Calum’s sleeping form on the bed.

“Let’s go in here,” the Crown Prince suggested softly, jerking his thumb towards a closed door tucked away beside the dressing table. “I don’t want to wake him.” Laura followed the younger boy easily enough, her gaze fluttering to the sleeping Prince with mild concern as Ashton led the way towards the reading room he didn’t often visit anymore. It was cosy in there, and there was a place for them to sit and talk without waking Calum which seemed to meet all of his requirements right now.

“Haven’t been in here in years,” Laura said quietly once they were seated inside, leaving the door ajar so that Ashton could keep Calum in sight. Even despite his concerns, he felt less anxious with the Prince nearby and his hazel gaze softened a little as he nestled closer into the cushions on the sofa, his ankle giving a tiny twinge at the movement.

“It’s so good to see you awake, Ashy,” Laura murmured into the silence, reaching out to take his hand. “I was so worried about you.”

Ashton shifted a little closer, letting his head rest familiarly on her shoulder as he played with her fingers, the guilt burning inside dully at the sight of the scars he’d inflicted on her.

“I’m sorry I scared you again,” he whispered, his voice low as a lump rose in his throat. “You’ve dealt with so much of my shit over the years. You don’t need more stress.”

“I think stress kind of comes with the territory where our friendship is concerned,” Laura teased, her eyes sparkling as she petted his fading red curls gently. “But I don’t care how stressed I get. I wouldn’t stop being your best friend for anything.”

“You’re sappy tonight,” Ashton noted, his dimples creasing his cheeks faintly as he tried to subtly brush a tear away. Laura saw through him in an instant but she was kind enough not to call him out on it and he was grateful for that.

“You were literally dead for several minutes,” she pointed out, her voice shaking just a little as her smile tightened. “I think I’ve earnt the right to be feel sappy over you, you terrible stressful boy. My hair will go grey years early because of you and your ridiculous antics.”

“You love my antics,” he mumbled, aware that he was being silly. “My antics are what makes our friendship fun.”

She rolled her eyes at him, huffing out an unwilling laugh, and he smiled as he relaxed back against her. His eyes slid shut when she stroked his hair again, the way she did whenever she was trying to convince herself that he was safe after a near-miss. They’d spent so many nights like this during the war, tucked away in field hospitals or in trenches, unable to sleep with fear or pain, or both.

Their friendship was the closest to safety and home they’d felt out on the Boneflats and, in a way, Ashton was glad that routine had followed them home to Aureum. He didn’t want to lose this; not now, not ever.

Laura was his family – would _always_ be his family – and he knew she felt the same way about him. It was one of the only constants he could count on anymore: her love and trust, and the knowledge that she would always do everything in her power to keep him safe and happy. It was how he felt about her after all. It was the foundation their friendship was built on.

“How are you feeling about going to Tenebris?” Laura asked curiously, her smile softening when he glanced up at her owlishly from where he remained snuggled at her side. “Only one day left in Aureum now.”

“I feel ready for it,” Ashton said slowly, hesitating. “I just want the Elevare to be over now… and travelling to Tenebris means that I’m on the homestretch, y’know?” He shrugged, feeling a wave of weariness wash over him. “I don’t even care if I win anymore,” he said honestly. “None of it matters anymore. The war is over, right? So the tournament has already worked its magic.”

“I think you’re brave,” Laura said softly, her eyes blazing with sincerity. “After the way you’ve been treated by… well, literally _everyone_ … you still went out there in front of the planet and made a go of this. Even with the Purgatio breathing down your neck, you’ve kept fighting, Ash, and… I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. I always will be.”

“You might not feel so kindly towards me tomorrow,” Ashton admitted, aiming for a joke because her words were resonating so deeply inside that he wanted to cry with how much he cared about her. “I’m re-dyeing my hair red… and Cal wants to go blond. I was sort of hoping we could steal you for a couple of hours to do that.”

“I’m sure I can squeeze it in around my last-minute packing,” Laura said with an exaggerated sigh. “But you’ll owe me, Irwin.” He smiled when she combed her fingers through his curls again, pushing them back from his forehead so she could see his face properly. “I can barely imagine you with your old hair colour now,” she said gently, her eyes warm. “The red suits you so well.”

“Thanks,” Ashton smiled, his gaze flickering towards the Prince automatically although he frowned when he saw Calum’s restlessness as he rolled over in his sleep. “It’ll be strange seeing Cal with blond hair.”

“Trying to steal Mikey’s thunder, is he?” Laura joked but some of the humour slipped away when her gaze settled on the Prince’s pinched face. “Ashy, is Calum okay?” she asked quietly, suddenly uncertain. “He seems… off.”

Ashton bit his lip, shrugging helplessly as he stared down miserably at the carpet.

“I don’t know,” he said softly, his heart clenching unpleasantly as he recalled the younger boy pulling away earlier when Ashton had tried to kiss him. “I think maybe last night upset him more than I realised. He’s really shaken up but… maybe going back home will help him feel more settled. That’s what I’m hoping for anyway.”

“Yeah,” Laura murmured, looking a little doubtful. “Maybe.” She sighed suddenly, looking away as her expression grew sadder. “Mike was upset earlier too. Do you think it’s a coincidence?”

“Well, Cal does talk about how he doesn’t really want to go back to Tenebris,” Ashton hedged slowly, his hazel eyes uneasy.

“So does Mike,” Laura admitted sadly. “I think maybe we’re gonna have some work on our hands, Ashy… trying to cheer these two up.”

“I think you might be right,” Ashton sighed, laying his head once more against her shoulder. He glanced up at her suddenly though, his lips twitching into a faint smile when she caught him watching her.

“What is it?” she asked curiously, her eyes warm. “Why’re you being all sly?”

“Just wondered how you and Mikey were doing, that’s all,” Ashton said with an easy shrug, his expression softening. “We haven’t really had a chance to catch up recently.”

“That’s true,” Laura said slowly, looking inexplicably nervous as she glanced at her best friend warily. “I… I do have an update for you actually.” She seemed unusually shy as she fiddled with the soft cotton material of her dress, letting her long fair hair tumble forwards to hide her face. “I… I slept with Mike last night,” she admitted as a blush heated her cheeks. “We… we’d never done that before. Either of us.”

“Oh,” Ashton breathed, his eyes widening in surprise as he tried to work out how to respond. “Um… are you okay? How was it?”

Laura flailed slightly, apparently unsure whether she should shrug or bury her head in her hands.

“It… it was good. Good, I think.” She bit her lip, gazing at her best friend with wide eyes. “It just feels sort of weird now?” she murmured, phrasing it as though the statement was a question. “Like, I thought I’d feel different… but I don’t really. I’m still me and Mike’s still Mike, and I guess that’s all that matters.”

She seemed to badly need the reassurance and Ashton reached for her hand automatically, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“That’s definitely the most important thing,” he said faintly, trying not to stare at her in surprise as he blushed himself. “So… did you like it?”

“Ash!” she groaned, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. He sniggered but his expression remained sincere and she softened after a moment, her lips tugging into a weak smile. “Yeah,” she said softly, twisting a lock of hair idly around her finger. “Being close to someone you love like that is… well, it’s incredible.” She paused suddenly, her blue eyes settling on his face as she eyed him curiously. “Haven’t you and Calum….?”

“ _Oh_ ,” Ashton spluttered, hiding his face in her shoulder for a moment. “I mean… we… we’ve done stuff before but… never all the way.” His gaze flickered once more to Calum and he softened, the flush of embarrassment fading as he looked at the younger boy’s sleeping face. “We want to wait,” he admitted, his tone gentler now. “We want it to be special the first time.”

“Aww! You guys are so cute!” Laura cooed, wrapping her arm around his shoulders in order to cuddle him tighter as Ashton rolled his eyes fondly, snuggling closer to her side.

“I’ve missed you fawning over me,” the Crown Prince teased, his hazel eyes glittering. He sobered a little when she grinned down at him though, his head tilting to one side as he considered something. “Was last night special for you and Mikey?” he asked hesitantly, relaxing visibly when she smiled sheepishly.

“It was,” Laura promised, her lips still curving unconsciously. “Last night I just… I felt so relieved that you were okay… and then I realised how lucky I was that we were _all_ safe… and then how fragile everything felt.” She shivered, holding his hand tighter as he pressed a chaste kiss to her shoulder through the white cotton. “I could lose any of you at any time,” she breathed, looking floored by this knowledge. “That’s why I want to make the most of every moment... and I guess Mike felt the same way.”

“Then I’m glad you took that step together,” Ashton said sincerely, more pleased for her than he could put into words. “You both deserve to be happy.” Laura was kind of beaming at him now and the Crown Prince found it altogether too adorable as he cuddled closer, slumping down on her like a tired puppy as she continued to pet his hair. “Where _is_ Mike anyway?” he asked sleepily. “Normally you two are inseparable.”

“You and Cal can talk,” Laura laughed, poking him lightly on the nose. “I’m not sure though to be honest. He said had stuff to do. I think he wanted to talk to Mali about something.”

“Fair enough,” Ashton said, his eyes crinkling when he smiled up at her hopefully. “Cuddle time?” he suggested, giving her a silly wink when she pretended to consider the request.

“You idiot,” she said fondly, her blue gaze sparkling as she folded him up in her arms. “Of course you can have cuddles, Ashy.”

“Good,” he murmured, closing his eyes contentedly when she nestled down beside him. “I’ve missed this.”

“I’ve missed it too,” she admitted, pressing a soft kiss to one of the mostly-healed grazes on his cheek. “I didn’t realise how much until now.”

He smiled at her when she drew back a little, his hazel eyes softening when he took in the tears welling in her eyes. There was so much affection and relief flooding her face that he knew she must have been thinking about the night before again; about how frighteningly close they’d come to losing each other, for good this time.

“Thank you for last night,” he said earnestly, feeling the gratitude saturating his expression. “I’d have died ten times over without you.”

“Guess I better stick around then, right?” she teased but the sincerity in her tone was plain as she cuddled him closer, unwilling to let go. “You’d get yourself into all kinds of scrapes without me around to patch you up.”

“That’s why I keep getting into them,” Ashton lied, smiling wryly. “Can’t have you getting bored of me.”

She smacked him weakly on the shoulder at that, clearly trying not to laugh before she tightened her hold on him, keeping him there where she knew without a doubt that he was safe. Ashton relaxed in her arms without question, feeling so calm and content that he almost forgot he’d been feeling miserable at all.

He felt safe when he was with Laura; always had done, ever since he was a little kid. She was brilliant at making him feel okay again and he prayed she’d remain his best friend for the rest of their lives.

The hope she gave him shone even brighter than his fear of the Purgatio following him to Tenebris or the fact that he might not be strong enough to keep his loved ones safe, and Ashton let that realisation comfort him. His problems hadn’t disappeared but, tonight, he didn’t need to dwell on them; not when Laura was beside him, keeping him smiling and relaxed.

“I love you,” he said softly, his eyes twinkling with tears in the dim light. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Laura smiled when he tucked his face away into her neck.

“I feel the same way, Ashy,” she promised, smiling ruefully as she brushed one of his tears away. “I love you too.”

*

“I’m glad we’re going back to Tenebris so soon,” Mali said quietly through the darkness, her hair tumbling down around her shoulders like a waterfall. “We’ve been away from home too long already.”

“I know,” Ashley murmured, stretching up to kiss her before she realised the older girl was just a little too far away. She slumped back down onto the pillows with a pout on her face and Mali smirked, lowering herself just enough that she could brush their lips together in a chaste kiss.

“I missed this, Ash,” she admitted, her dark eyes sliding shut when the younger girl’s palms rose to gently cradle her face. “I missed _you_.”

“Missed you too, gorgeous,” Ashley murmured, pressing a kiss to Mali’s jaw as her hands slid familiarly over the warm skin of the Princess’s ribs. “It wasn’t the same without you.”

Mali had just ducked her head to suck a bruise into the younger girl's throat when a fist pounded against the bedroom door, hard enough that it rattled on its hinges. The two girls exchanged a wide-eyed look before, as one, they hurriedly reached for their clothes. Ashley wriggled back into her t-shirt with impressive speed as the knock sounded again and Mali sighed as she reached swiftly for the younger girl’s hoodie, dragging it quickly over her head since it was the closest garment in reach.

“I know you’re in there, Mali!” a familiar voice called angrily. _Michael_. “You have five seconds before I’m breaking the door down.”

“Charming,” Mali muttered, rolling her eyes as she crossed the room. She pulled the door open sharply, fixing Michael with a stony look as he raised his fist to knock again, looking momentarily stunned that she’d answered so quickly. “Problem, little brother?” she asked coolly, raising an eyebrow at the angry flush of colour staining his cheeks.

“Yes,” he snapped, his voice tight with something which she took a moment to identify as pain. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I _do_ have a fucking problem.”

“Then you better come in,” the Princess said sharply, biting her lip when he stalked in past her. He grunted a grudging greeting to Ashley who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her expression politely inquisitive. Mali sighed as she shut the door gently behind her, her shoulders slumping when she turned to see the hurt on Michael’s flushed face.

“What seems to be the problem here?” she asked, eyeing him with uncertainty when he curled his hands into tight fists, the knuckles white as bone. “What’s got you so angry?”

He glanced towards the Princess’ bodyguard awkwardly and Mali sighed, coming to a stop in front of him as she folded her arms across her chest. Her bracelets rippled down to cover her fingertips like claws, the metal gleaming in the evening light filtering in through a gap in the curtains.

“Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of Ashley,” she said with just a hint of sharpness. “Spit it out, Mikey.”

Michael exhaled heavily, his muscles tensed as he gritted his teeth, clearly struggling over the words he needed to say. Mali had never seen him this angry before – at least, not directed at _her_ instead of the journalists who could be so cruel to him – and she didn’t like the little knot of worry forming in her chest as he began to pace back and forth through the shadows, his emerald eyes burning.

In that moment, he looked just as dangerous as the comms channels said he was.

“Mikey, you need to calm down,” the Princess said softly, her tone beseeching. Ashley grimaced in the shadows and Mali realised her mistake the moment Michael spun to face her, a burst of fiery reddish-orange sparks exploding furiously from his fingertips as he pointed at her accusatorily.

“You don’t get to tell me to calm down!” he snapped, his tone livid as his face crumpled at the angry tears prickling in his eyes. “You and Calum lied to me. You fucking _lied_ to me. You both know exactly why Calum was picked to be champion and you know full well it has very little to do with _glory_.” He spat the last word, his damp eyes alight with fury as the sparks rained down onto the floor. “I know David wants Ashton dead. I know he wants Calum to be the one to kill him, because Ash killed uncle Tommy… and if _I_ can work that out – stupid, slow, overly-emotional Michael _fucking_ Clifford – then other people can work it out too.”

Mali took half a step closer, a lump rising in her throat as she watched the tears trickling down his flushed cheeks, even as her guilt and anxiety tightened like barbed wire around her lungs.

“By talking about it publically that night, you and Calum have put _all_ of our lives at risk,” Michael said in a colder voice, the fiery sparks sputtering out as he dropped his gaze, staring down blankly at the blackened burn marks littering the floor. “What you two were discussing was treason and we could _all_ go to prison for that. Claritas would eradicate the Tenebran royal family if David’s insane plan ever came to light.” He was quaking with quiet rage now, his sandy hair in disarray from where he’d violently raked his trembling fingers through it. “You two put all of our futures on the line because you were so dangerously short-sighted.”

Mali sank down heavily onto the edge of the bed, her dark eyes wide and damp as she stared up at Michael in dismay. Ashley was silent beside her, her pale hands curled into shaking fists in the blankets as she stared between the pair of them in shock. Mali felt quite a lot like she was going to be sick as the guilt seared through her, blindingly bright.

“Do you wanna know the worst part?” Michael whispered, so quiet that both girls had to strain to hear him. “After all of that, I still can’t hate you.” He let the tears roll down his cheeks unhindered, his heart aching in his chest as his hands fell to tremble limply at his sides. “After all of that, I still would’ve helped you in any way you asked, no matter _how_ dangerous… but not anymore… because you don’t trust me, do you? You can’t do or you would’ve been honest with me.”

“Mikey,” Mali gasped, so breathless from fighting not to cry that she could barely force the words out as the tears burnt down her cheeks. “Mikey, _please_ don’t think we –”

“It’s not enough,” Michael said roughly, his voice thick with tears. “You two were the _only_ fucking family I had left… and I can’t even trust you to tell me the truth.” He took a shaky step away from her, drifting unconsciously towards the door. “I don’t think I can trust you at all.”

His hand was shaking when it settled on the door handle, his eyelashes spiky with tears as – quite distinctly – he felt his heart breaking in his chest.

“Stay away from me,” he whispered, unable to look either of them in the eye. “Just… stay away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I am both excited and nervous to write the second half of this fic, and I really hope you'll all stick along for the ride.  
> I can't wait to hear what you thought <3


	15. Far Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I really hope you'll enjoy this chapter.  
> It feels strange writing something not set in Claritas!
> 
> Trigger warning for mentions of past injury/near-death experience, a minor character being a sexist pig (yuck), implied/referenced panic attacks, and mild sexual content.

**_All we do is drive._ **

**_All we do is think about the feelings that we hide._ **

**_All we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign,_ **

**_Sick and full of pride._ **

**_All we do is drive._ **

_\- Drive, Halsey_

 

The roar of the jet seemed muted somehow, a low rumble that barely filtered through the numbness Michael had sank into. He was tired and miserable, and he felt lost as he slumped there in the leather seat, his head resting on Laura’s shoulder as they shared a pair of earphones, listening to the playlist she’d prepared for their trip to Tenebris.

Luke and Niall were in the seats across from them, their fingers tangled as they leant against one another, cheek to cheek, their eyes flickering behind their lids as they communicated silently in their strange way. Michael wondered at that for a moment; imagined how it would feel if simply by touching Laura’s skin he could wordlessly tell her how much he loved her… but maybe that wasn’t even necessary. Maybe she knew that already.

She pressed a sleepy kiss to his cheek like she knew what he was thinking and he hummed contentedly, satisfied for all of three seconds before his gaze drifted automatically towards the other inhabitants on the jet. He withered a little as he watched the other Tenebrans, his heart sinking in his chest as the sparks crackled beneath his skin.

He hadn’t spoken to Mali or Ashley since his explosion the other night, too ashamed and hurt to face them. Calum was avoiding him too which indicated that the Princess had passed along Michael’s warning to stay away from him and, if he was being honest with himself, that was the part that hurt most.

Calum had always been his closest friend and trying to stay away from him was as painful as walking over hot coals or broken glass. Everything in Michael wanted to plead with the younger boy so that they could make things right but it was too late now. Calum had gone too far and cut Michael too deeply, and that was all there was to it. He simply had to hope that the sharp stinging pain would dull in time.

Both Hood siblings were sleeping and Calum stirred restlessly across the aisle, his hoodie slipping a little where he was leaning against the Crown Prince. The shock of blond hair visible kept startling Michael whenever he caught a glimpse of Calum’s newly-dyed locks and he felt unsettled as he watched his old best friend warily. The blond hair made Calum look so different, almost like he was someone else entirely, and Michael wished that didn’t feel so accurate right now, after all of the frightening secrets he’d uncovered.

Ashton was curled up as small as possible in the seat beside the Prince, knuckling his hazel eyes tiredly as he hunched there under his coat, looking thoroughly miserable. His skin looked faintly grey in the moonlight shining outside and Michael felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising when he realised that this pallor had been present ever since the older boy had been revived after he’d drowned in Flos Bay.

A few of them had commented on it in increasingly worried tones over the last few days but, despite Niall assuring them that it was simply exhaustion, Michael couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something of Ashton had been lost that night.

Sometimes, when the Crown Prince shuddered as the numbness buried in his eyes threatened to swallow him whole, Michael wondered if they’d brought a ghost home from the beach instead.

He wondered if learning the truth might ignite the fire in Ashton’s chest again. He certainly needed _something_ to spur him into motion but, no matter how badly he deserved the truth, Michael wouldn’t break the Hood siblings’ trust, even if they had treated his own feelings so carelessly.

He looked again at Mali as the thought crossed his mind, his lips pressing together unhappily as she slept on, entirely unaware of his anger and disappointment. Ashley’s arm was wrapped warmly around the Princess’ shoulders and Sierra was seated across from them, reading a book although her eyes flickered around the jet warily every now and then, searching for a threat. She’d been restless ever since Ashton’s lifeless body had been dragged from the sea and the deep bags under her eyes were a testament to how heavily it was taking its toll on her.

Michael could feel the tension poisoning him too; shuddered as it saturated the silent cabin, seeping all of the happiness away. They’d never been so stilted and uncomfortable in each other’s company before, and he missed the old days so much that it hurt.

That night in the palatial estate gardens before the first challenge had been one of Michael’s happiest moments in Claritas and to have that tainted now felt unbearably unfair.

The ache in his chest only worsened when Calum’s woke unexpectedly, his tired eyes settling on the older boy’s face as Michael met his gaze automatically. There was a moment of warmth and familiarity before Calum’s expression suddenly hardened, his jaw squaring as he turned away deliberately, fists curled and muscles tense.

Calum was in pain – that much was obvious – and Michael felt the guilt searing inside him all over again as he slumped back into the warmth of Laura’s side. A shaky unhappy sigh escaped him but he let his eyes slide shut when she reached to stroke his hair gently, soothing him as the anxiety in his chest calmed a little. His lips twitched into a grateful smile when she traced a heart into his cheek and he burrowed closer, one arm wrapping around her waist as she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“My sparky,” she murmured comfortingly, the words almost lost beneath the music. “ _Mine_.”

*

Tenebris was a lot colder than Laura had expected, even despite Michael’s warnings. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly as she followed him down onto the airstrip, blinking against the light mist of rain in the air as Luke’s hand slipped into hers. He was holding Niall close too, his arm wrapped around the older man’s waist, his expression fiercely protective as the first camera flashes greeted them.

Clearly, Luke was dwelling on all of the horror stories they’d heard about the treatment of empaths in Tenebris and Laura couldn’t very well blame him. Her brother’s sweet-natured boyfriend seemed far too worried about the feelings of others to stand up for himself and she squared her jaw when she saw Michael watching Niall anxiously too, proving that perhaps the Hemmings siblings’ concerns weren’t unfounded.

“C’mon, angel,” Calum could be heard murmuring behind them, the dread in his tone impossible to mask at the prospect of returning home, no matter how might false cheer he tried to inject into his voice. “Let’s get you out of this rain.”

Mali stumbled down the steps behind him, her palm resting on the metal railing as the last of the sedatives wore out of her system. Sierra was eyeing her with poorly-disguised concern but Ashley didn't seem worried so Laura figured maybe the Princess was always like this after travelling by jet.

The press were calling their names now, fighting to get their attention so that their pictures would be of a better quality. Michael gritted his teeth when he saw how small Laura looked beside him, her blue eyes widening as she leant into his warmth, her face pale and nervous in the darkness.

The guilt he could feel at her and her brother being flung into this situation only worsened when he saw the bone-deep weariness in Ashton’s eyes, and Michael tore his gaze away unhappily as he squared his shoulders against the jeering shouts of the journalists. It would be better for everyone if he buried his dismay at the prospect of Ashton arriving in a dangerous place that wished him so much harm. The last thing they needed was the press asking awkward questions and uncovering treacherous secrets better left concealed.

Michael could only hope that Calum wouldn’t do something awful borne out of desperation and that David wouldn’t decide to take matters into his own hands. After all, the King would have half a year in which to torment Ashton. Those dark months in front of them seemed to stretch on forever.

Laura winced beside him when the journalists shouted some particularly nasty barbs directed at the politicians’ son but Michael hardly noticed their insults. Over the last six months in Claritas, he’d grown used to dealing with the veiled bullying and their words barely touched him anymore. In fact, he was feeling relatively composed as he led the way across the airstrip beneath the amber glow of the lights, at least until they directed their cruel words at his relationship with Laura instead.

“Hey, Clifford,” one of the journalists called harshly, his voice rough enough that Michael looked up automatically, heart clenching at the sight of an unpleasantly familiar face. This was a man who’d riled him up to the point of losing his temper in the past and Michael pressed his lips together tightly, determined to remain in control of himself today. “Won’t you introduce us to your girlfriend before you scurry off inside to hide?” The man’s eyes flashed and he laughed nastily. “Although… does she actually _count_ as your girlfriend when she’s just staff?”

“What’re you –”

“Well, she’s paid to follow orders, isn’t she?” the man said pointedly, his lips curving into a nasty smirk as the camera flashes increased in frequency. “Surely that’s the only reason she’d give _you_ the time of day, Clifford, servant or not... because she knows she’s getting paid for her troubles.”

“How dare you imply that?” Laura demanded, bristling visibly as Michael slumped beside her, his anxiety and anger coiling tightly enough in his chest that he felt breathless with it. “Contrary to the utter crap you’ve been spewing, Mike doesn’t have to pay for sex, love, or whatever else you’re insinuating. He actually has a lot of people who love him, unlike you monsters who don’t have a single redeemable characteristic between you.”

“Have you seen him lose his temper?” the man asked softly, his eyes dark eyes glinting as the cameraman beside him pointed the expensive equipment at Michael, the red light blinking in the darkness as it recorded the scene unfolding. “It’s quite tragic… and y’know what? It looks like you’re about to have front row seats, sweetheart.”

“Don’t _fucking_ call her –” Michael broke off when Ashley appeared beside him, wrenching his arm out of her grip as his burning red sparks hissed in the light rain, burning away to nothing on the tarmac as his shameful emotions finally tore free of his defences. Laura's shaking hand had slipped to cover her mouth now, her eyes damp as she gazed up at the younger boy fearfully.

“A good woman might have been enough to force Clifford into finally growing up,” the journalist said with an unpleasant sneer. “Although, judging by the impending tantrum, it doesn’t look as though you’ve managed to have much effect. That’s what you get for dating commoners though, Clifford. If you waste all your time with nobodies, you’ll get nothing in return.”

“Leave them alone,” Calum said sharply, his unexpected words a little choked with rage. Overhead, thunder was rumbling distantly as the storm clouds gathered and the sky darkened as Michael curled his hands into tight fists. The lights lining the airstrip were flickering now and Luke looked frightened as he wrapped his fingers around his sister’s arm, clearly preparing himself to pull her back in case the orphan exploded.

“Don’t call Laura ‘nothing’,” Michael said coldly, a muscle in his clenched jaw twitching, his face illuminated by the reddish-orange sparks. With a series of sudden deafening clangs, the lights on the airstrip went out one at a time, plunging them into ominous darkness as the sparks showered down dangerously onto the tarmac below. There was a moment of tense silence before Michael took a measured step closer to the horde of journalists, deliberately putting space between himself and his friends. “Don’t even speak to her, okay? She’s worth a million of you.”

“She’s a charity case,” the man said nastily, his eyes glinting even as he tensed at the shadows pressing in around them. “Don’t tell me you really give a fuck about her.” Laura’s face crumpled at the words and Michael’s heart broke when he saw the agonised resignation in her eyes as she flinched, like maybe she’d worried about that herself before.

“You’re just trying to be like mummy and daddy, aren’t you, Clifford?” the journalist asked scornfully. “You found the first pitiful Claritan who was desperate enough that she wouldn’t say no and you won’t let go. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You’re just a waste-of-space Claritan sympathiser, the same as your dead parents.”

The storm broke overhead with a booming clap of thunder and the freezing wind became biting as the first bolt of lightning slammed down onto the tarmac, sending the journalists and his friends alike scattering in fear. The press were actually trampling over each other in an effort to escape the dark airstrip and Michael felt sick when he saw one of their cameras lying discarded at his feet, still recording as the red light glowed mockingly. He kicked the camera as hard as he could, sending it clattering away in broken pieces as his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

The lightning was still slamming down onto the cracked tarmac, albeit more weakly without the initial bursts of pure fury that had powered Michael’s magic. His anxiety was burning in his chest now though and he felt so vulnerable as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, unable to force the storm away even as Luke used his own powers to manipulate the wind, keeping the worst of it from tearing painfully at their clothes and hair.

“Laura, you can’t!” Luke said suddenly, his fearful words barely filtering through the haze of despair Michael was sinking into. “It’s not safe!”

“I don’t care,” Laura said resolutely, her words rough with the lump rising in her throat as she pulled away from her brother. Ashton reached for her weakly too but she ducked under his outstretched arm, her pale skin blotchy with how upset she was as she ran to Michael. He needed someone to calm him down and she was sure he wouldn’t hurt her if she attempted it. There was no one she trusted quite like Michael.

Laura flinched at the fading bursts of searing energy illuminating the darkness around her but she didn’t slow, her scarred hands already reaching for the younger boy as he slumped suddenly, a broken sob escaping him. Her arms wrapped around him automatically, the warmth of her body making him melt against her as he buried his tear-streaked face in her neck.

“There now,” she murmured as the lights lining the airstrip slowly flickered back to life. The clouds were dissipating overhead and a sliver of moon shone down, painting the cracked tarmac silvery in the darkness. “Stormy doesn’t have quite the same ring as sparky, does it?” she asked lightly, trying hard to make him laugh. He did so, if a little unwillingly, and she relaxed when he let his forehead fall to rest on her shoulder, his face damp with tears as he let out a heavy sigh.

“That was a rubbish joke,” he whispered, his hands still trembling faintly. She shrugged, pressing a kiss to his shoulder through the coat he was bundled up in. The sleeves came down over his hands and it made him look small as he watched her through weary eyes glassy with tears, a shiver running through his slumped form. Laura held him closer, stretching up to kiss his jaw as her fingers eased through his sandy hair soothingly. He calmed against her and she gave him a watery smile, thumbing his tears away gently as he leant into the softness of her palm.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” she murmured, her fingertips stroking his flushed cheekbone comfortingly as their friends slowly drifted closer again. “Thank you for looking after me, Mikey. I love you endlessly.”

Michael’s hands were still shaking when he moved to cradle her face but he seemed to draw strength from the warmth sparkling in her pretty eyes. Their foreheads came to rest together and he sighed quietly, his eyes falling shut as the anger and pain finally drained from his expression.

“That bastard was right about one thing,” he said softly, not even glancing towards the journalist’s retreating form as the members of the press finally made it off the airstrip. “I _won’t_ let you go, petal. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I’ll never want you to,” she promised, drying her eyes with the back of her hand as she cuddled him closer. “You’ve changed my life. I’ve never loved anyone like you before, sparky.”

“That’s good,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I love you far too much to lose you now.”

Their friends were loosely circling them now, their expressions wary in the amber glow as they made sure the press truly weren’t going to come back. Michael tensed when his gaze finally drifted unwillingly towards the citadel and he swore softly at the sight that met him on the stone steps. David and Joy had come down to greet them, and Michael was certain his explosive emotions would be viewed in a very poor light, especially in the company of the first Claritan guests in so many decades.

“Oh dear,” Mali murmured, a soft sigh escaping her when Michael turned away as the pain of the Hood siblings’ betrayal flared up once more. “Guess we’d better get this over with.”

Laura took Michael’s hand silently as the group started off across the tarmac and it felt almost defiant as he pressed a kiss to her scarred knuckles, refusing to let go. He refused to be ashamed, even when he saw David and Joy staring at their entwined hands with deepening frowns on their faces.

Michael would never, ever stop showing the world how much he loved Laura.

She was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

*

Calum felt sick as he approached his parents. His heart was pounding unevenly in his chest and his hands were shaking as he tangled his fingers with Ashton’s, far less brazen about it than Michael and Laura were as they led the way up the shallow stone steps.

Calum felt worse with every step he took, the scratches on his thighs burning dully under his jeans, his chest tightening with anxiety. His only saving grace was the awe on Ashton’s face as he gazed up at the dark hulking stone of the citadel, looking as though he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or intimidated. His red curls were shining like copper in the muted light, his hazel eyes growing soft and sad when he noticed the first servants scurrying about through the twisting passages, as meek and fearful as mice.

The scars the mordere had carved into his cheek were painfully obvious in the amber glow and Calum’s heart hurt as he watched the Crown Prince tenderly, taking in the rosy undertone of his complexion and the long flutter of his eyelashes when he blinked in surprise as the marble entrance hall came into view.

Calum had seen him lifeless and cold a few days before, and the fear of it happening again gripped him like an icy fist as he fought against the urge to stroke the older boy’s cheek. All he wanted in that moment was to protect Ashton, both from David and anyone else who might wish him harm. By comparison, nothing else was even half as important as that.

He tightened his grip on Ashton’s hand when they passed the King and Queen on the steps, functioning on autopilot as he offered all of the necessary pleasantries and endured the comments about his freshly dyed blond hair, aware that they’d be forced to repeat this farce in front of the cameras in the near future anyway. He rushed Ashton past them as fast as was polite, barely breathing when he saw the dark look on David’s face as his gaze settled on the Claritan Crown Prince.

Before tonight, Calum had only ever had horrible visions of his father using his innumerable stolen abilities to cause Ashton harm. Slowly, though, it was occurring to the Prince that perhaps David might have other darker plans instead. What if he decided to use his powers to rob Ashton of his fire instead? What if he drained him of enough energy that he was powerless and then used the stolen flames to destroy him?

Calum bit his lip hard to keep from crying as he flinched at the horrifying idea of losing Ashton all over again. The older boy was wide-eyed beside him as he gazed up at the citadel, the architecture so gothic and ominous compared to the shining white stone of his own palace back home.

“It’s so _old_ ,” Ashton breathed beside him, looking quite daunted by the aged black stone. He was shivering as the temperature plummeted around them and Calum wrapped his arm warmly around the Crown Prince’s shoulders, leading him into the warmth. “I never expected it to look like this. It's so much bigger than it seems over the comms.”

Calum mumbled his assent distractedly as he shot a nervous glance over his shoulder, relaxing fractionally when he saw that Mali had captured their parents' attention, meaning that he was safe to disappear with Ashton.

“C’mon, angel,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the older boy’s vibrant red curls. “I asked them to put you in the room beside mine.”

Some of the tension leaked from Ashton's shoulders once they were alone again, his tired hazel eyes warm as Calum led him towards where he’d be living for the next six months. He reached out to stroke Calum’s soft blond hair as they ambled along side by side, his lips twitching wearily when the younger boy managed a weak smile that couldn’t quite smother the guilt burning in his chest.

“What’re you thinking, curly?” Ashton asked softly as the Prince guided the way silently towards the older boy’s new quarters. Calum’s smile grew weaker still as he caught the Crown Prince’s hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Just about how much I wanna keep you safe,” he said honestly. “That’s all.”

Ashton fell quiet after that, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip as he glanced around warily at the dark passageways they were passing through. He seemed relieved to learn that all of the guests would be staying in the same wing of the citadel and he cheered up even further when he discovered just how close he’d be to the Hemmings siblings and Sierra. Michael and Mali’s quarters were only on the next passage too, and the fact that would all be living out of each other's pockets for the next six months seemed to offer the older boy a lot of comfort.

For just a moment, though, Calum thought of the wounded expression on Michael’s face when they’d made eye contact on the jet and he floundered a little, the guilt inside burning hotter. Perhaps being forced to live side by side would do more harm than good where their relationship was concerned. Perhaps this would spell disaster instead.

Calum’s troubled expression perfectly matched the uncertainty in Ashton’s eyes as he opened the door, leading the older boy into his new quarters. It was nice enough in there, all muted colours and a wide double bed opposite tall windows overlooking the lakes, but the Crown Prince only seemed to grow more unsettled as he wrapped his arms around himself, small and nervous.

“Not homesick already, are you?” Calum asked softly, his words coming out a little rougher with emotion when Ashton caught his gaze, his hazel eyes glistening damply in the moonlight. “Oh, angel,” he breathed, opening his arms. “C’mere.”

Ashton barrelled into him, holding on tightly as he tucked his head away beneath the younger boy’s chin, embarrassed by his unexpected emotions. Calum could feel the lump rising in his throat as he cuddled the older boy closer, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Let’s get you settled, Ash,” the Prince suggested gently, carding his fingers soothingly through Ashton’s scarlet curls. “You want me to stay with you tonight?”

Ashton blushed, dropping his gaze as he stared down at the carpet, his lip clasped between his teeth.

“If you don’t mind,” he whispered, shivering a little in the younger boy’s arms. “I… I wasn’t sure you’d want to.” He shrugged weakly, his lips curving into a humourless smile as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Things have felt… off lately.”

“I know,” Calum admitted unhappily, his heart aching in his chest. “I… I need to tell you –” He broke off, his anxiety curling red-hot around his lungs at the prospect of telling Ashton the truth. “I love you,” he said instead, lamely, his head hanging with shame. “I want you to remember that. I _really_ love you.”

Ashton looked up at him slowly, his eyelashes spiky with tears as he stared at the Prince, clearly trying to fathom the secrets he was keeping.

“ _Do_ you?” he asked bluntly, his hands trembling at his sides. Calum felt like he’d been kicked in the chest as the scratches under his jeans throbbed and he shuddered, his palms coming to rest shakily on the older boy’s shoulders.

“Yes,” he promised as the truth of his words resonated painfully through him. “I swear I’ll never stop.”

“Okay,” Ashton said quietly, his hazel eyes sliding shut exhaustedly as he slumped in Calum’s grip. “Okay then.”

He went easily when the younger boy guided him towards the bed, too tired to put up any sort of fight at all as Calum removed his shoes for him, helping him get comfortable on the pillows. Ashton watched all of it with a melancholy glimmer in his eyes, the tremble in his hands lessening a little when he reached for the younger boy weakly.

The kiss was soft and tentative when Calum finally ducked down to capture the older boy's lips, and the soft sound that escaped Ashton sounded as though he were about to cry when his fingers tangled through the Prince's bleached curls. Calum’s guilt shone like a beacon inside him because he knew he didn’t deserve this comfort; didn’t deserve Ashton’s kisses and affection when he’d lied to him since the day they’d met but… but Calum couldn’t pull away again. He couldn’t hold out on him when it was so painfully clear that the older boy felt so adrift right now; when he was so badly craving the familiarity.

“I promise I’ll keep you safe, angel,” Calum murmured as he kissed the older boy’s jaw, his throat, the soft skin beneath his ear. “No matter what it takes.”

Ashton shivered beneath him, a contented sigh escaping him as his uncertainty and fear bled away into something infinitely softer. He pushed Calum’s hoodie off with shaking hands, his lips parting around a soft gasp when the younger boy's fingertips danced over the tensed muscles of his abdomen, the touch fleeting and teasing before he curved his hand gently over the older boy’s cock in his jeans.

Ashton whimpered, his pretty eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his fingers pressed into the younger boy's shoulders, holding him there like it would be enough to keep them from being torn apart.

“I love you, Cal,” he breathed, his eyes blazing with it as he caught the younger boy’s lips in a soft kiss. Calum shuddered, feeling as though his heart had been scraped raw in the cage of his ribs as he burnt up from the inside out.

He could feel Ashton’s love charring his bones.

*

Calum crept back into his own bedroom the next morning. It felt so strange to be back there, taking in the peeling posters on the wall and the familiar faded quilt, deep blue with little stars scattered across the well-loved material. He sank down onto the edge of the mattress for a moment, just breathing as the silence pressed in on him, the sun barely risen as the sky gradually began to lighten outside.

He hadn’t wanted to leave Ashton alone this morning. He’d looked so small and vulnerable lying curled beneath the blankets, his red curls in disarray, his face gentle in sleep as he whined softly at the loss of warmth when the younger boy carefully climbed out of bed. Calum felt bad for causing the older boy any distress in his absence but his resolve was too strong to ignore now. He’d formulated a plan during the sleepless hours he’d whiled away last night and, this morning, it was time to put it into action.

Somewhere, buried in the clutter of his bedroom, Calum knew there was a necklace hidden: a delicate silver chain with a tiny glass bottle as the pendant. Mali had given it to him to tinker with when he was younger and, against the odds, he’d kept it. Calum was grateful for that now and determined to recover it. It was the item his entire plan hinged upon and, as luck would have it, he found it after only a few minutes of searching.

It was dusty and smaller than he remembered but that didn’t matter. Calum clasped it in his hand triumphantly as he headed to the bookshelf, his fingertip tracing the titles on the spines before he found the tome he needed. He tossed the book onto the bed jubilantly, his heart beginning to speed up with excitement as he hurried into his bathroom to fill the bottle with water. There was only enough for a few drops but that would be more than enough for what he had planned.

For once, it seemed that everything was falling into place.

Even finding the specific protection charm in the old spell book was easier than he’d imagined. The dog-eared tome seemed to fall open onto the correct page just from him touching it and that could only be a positive. It meant that his intentions were true and clear; that the magic in his veins was palpable as the determination flooded through him like the tide.

The incantation for the charm was relatively simple and, whilst it had never worked for him in the past on those frustrating occasions when he’d tried to prepare a protective amulet for his sister or Michael, he could feel that the outcome would be vastly different today. Calum had power and grit on his side, and that was a potent combination for any spell, even one outside of one’s normal abilities.

He held the tiny glass bottle of water tightly in his fist, his fingertip drifting gently across the fading ink in the book as he murmured the incantation. He’d always struggled in the past but it felt almost easy now as he focused on his outcome – keeping Ashton safe from any outside forces who might wish him harm – and the relief Calum could feel was heady as the water glowed a soft gold for a moment before fading.

His heart felt too big for his chest as he carried the necklace carefully back to the older boy’s quarters, padding across the carpet in bare feet before he re-joined the Crown Prince on the bed. Ashton had woken in his absence, his red curls rumpled as he yawned, looking confused and sleepy. Calum cradled his cheek gently in his palm, unable to stop himself from pressing a soft kiss to the older boy’s searching lips.

“Where’d you go?” Ashton mumbled, his eyes drooping as he stretched, scratching his stomach blearily. Calum smiled as he dangled the necklace in front of the older boy, holding it still so that the Crown Prince could focus on it in his tired state.

“I got you a present,” Calum explained with just a hint of pride, his dimples creasing his cheeks faintly when Ashton looked over at him in surprise. “You see the little charm, angel? There’s water inside.” He smiled at the older boy’s slight confusion, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling in the early morning light. “My ability makes me attuned to the feeling of water too, right? It’s not just being able to manipulate it. I can sense when I’m near a river or a puddle or… or the _sea_ … and I can learn the feeling of specific bodies of water too.”

“So… you’ve learnt what _this_ water feels like?” Ashton guessed, his curiosity evident as he reached for the necklace tentatively for a closer look. His lips curved into an unconscious smile and Calum grinned, powerless not to.

“Exactly,” the younger boy said softly. “Being attuned to the feeling of the water in your necklace means I’ll always be able to find you, angel, even if we’re far apart.”

“So we won’t lose each other,” Ashton breathed, his damp hazel eyes crinkling as he smiled. He slipped the necklace over his head wordlessly, the gratitude clear in his eyes, and Calum relaxed visibly when the pendant came to rest over the older boy’s heart. He hoped so badly that the protection charm would be powerful enough to keep the Crown Prince safe. That was all Calum gave a damn about anymore.

He pushed Ashton down lightly onto the blankets, capturing his lips in a warm kiss as the older boy drew him closer, moaning softly when Calum straddled him. Ashton’s palms were warm when they came to settle on the younger boy’s hips, his cheeks flushing a rosy red as he pressed his head into the pillows when the Prince began to suck kisses into his throat.

Calum still felt guilty for lying but it was easier to ignore now that he knew he’d taken measures to ensure the older boy’s safety… and besides, Ashton deserved to feel good. Calum could do that for him, even if there _was_ a terrifying yawning feeling in his chest that might not _only_ be fear of what David might do or Ashton leaving him if he discovered the truth.

It was a deep aching love too and Calum knew it would never fade, no matter how hard things got.

The Crown Prince arched up against the younger boy’s searching hands, his eyes damp with happy tears as he held the younger boy closer, and when Calum leant down to whisper in his ear just how much he adored him, kissing Ashton and losing himself in the older boy’s mouth felt as easy as breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading :)  
> I'd love to hear what you thought <3


	16. All Bark And No Bite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm back and I'm sorry it took so long.  
> I hope you'll enjoy this chapter - it's getting dangerous in Tenebris...
> 
> Trigger warning for sexual content and risk of injury.

**_I took a step back into the dirt and I'm not proud of myself_ **

**_And it must be love that holds me down so well,_ **

**_‘Cause the guilt that should be eating at my conscience isn't there._ **

**_I took a step back into the dirt. I think I'm crying for help._ **

_\- L.O.V.E., Deaf Havana_

 

Even the sunrises looked different in Tenebris. The distant mountains cast inky shadows across the ground and the lakes of Effervo rippled in the pinkish dawn, painting the Prince’s face with a rosy hue as Calum slumped back down onto the sheets with a broken moan. His blond curls shone like silver in the early morning light, his expression saturated with pleasure as Ashton settled down on the mattress beside him with a smirk.

“Angel, your _mouth_ –” Calum groaned, one arm flung over his eyes as his chest heaved. The older boy’s lips twitched as he fiddled with the necklace the Prince had given him, his fingertips toying with the water-filled pendant as his expression softened.

“I missed this,” Ashton admitted quietly, his hazel eyes crinkling when he leant down to kiss the younger boy’s full lips. It was too dark to see much more than the shadowy outline of Calum's limbs sprawled beneath the blankets but Ashton felt it when the younger boy’s fingers tangled in his scarlet curls. Calum was still gasping a little from his climax as he pressed closer, their lips moving together, the kiss sweet and unbearably safe. Ashton’s heart hurt with how much he’d needed this.

“Missed it too,” Calum breathed, his chocolate brown eyes soft for once, free of the trepidation that had filled them since they’d returned to Tenebris. Ashton bit his lip, stroking the younger boy’s bleached hair back from his forehead as a faint frown creased his brow.

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” Ashton breathed, the words escaping him before he had time to consider them. Calum sighed, turning his head away as his cheek came to rest on the pillow, his eyes faraway as he gazed out over the vast lakes.

“I’ll always want you,” he said heavily as his fingers twisted in the sheets. Ashton reached for his hand, his frown deepening when he noticed that it was curled into a tight fist.

“ _But_?” he asked quietly, fearing the answer.

“No buts,” Calum whispered, still unable to meet his gaze. “Can’t you just accept that?”

Ashton sat back on his heels, rolling his eyes when the Prince finally deigned to look at him, his gaze drifting automatically over the older boy’s bare chest. He shoved Calum weakly in the shoulder, his cheeks heating a little under the younger boy’s stare.

“I know you’re hiding something from me,” Ashton said pointedly, pressing his lips together when Calum reached out timidly to stroke his half-hard cock where it was resting on his thigh. Ashton’s hips rocked forwards into the contact automatically, a soft whine escaping him as he hung his head for a moment, aware that this was clearly a distraction to keep him from asking more questions. “You’re a shit liar, Hood,” he gasped out, his eyes fluttering shut when Calum's fingers wrapped warmly around him.

“Seriously?” the younger boy murmured, nudging Ashton back down onto the mattress as he sucked a kiss into his neck. “You wait ‘til I’m all orgasm-drunk to pounce on me? When I can’t defend myself?”

“You seem to be doing a pretty good job of it,” Ashton pointed out in disagreement, moaning weakly when Calum’s thumb stroked over the slit, his breathing quickly growing ragged. “Also… I can pounce on you if you want? But I mean… that kind of wasn’t the point I was making there.”

Calum huffed out a faint laugh, grinning weakly even as a hint of something unhappy flickered fleetingly in his dark eyes.

“I’ll work out what you’re hiding, curly,” Ashton warned him, his eyes fluttering shut as the movement of Calum’s fist sped up, his lips parting around a groan when the Prince sucked a bruise into the sensitive skin of his throat. “You mark my words.”

*

Calum hadn’t been down in the Lake Suite for years.

The vast rooms were situated deep beneath the citadel, usually used for formal occasions when the King and Queen wanted to show off the splendour of crystal lakes surrounding their home to any wide-eyed guests. The rooms were built from dark mahogany with one wall of toughened glass, letting in the muted green light from the lakes outside.

Calum and Michael had played hide and seek down here once upon a time, lurking beneath the long tables and the chairs draped with their dust sheets, neglected and all but forgotten about, save by the boys. Throughout the long years during the last Boneflats War, money had been so tight that Tenebris had hosted no banquets or parties at all and the Lake Suite had been left empty for more than a decade. It was back in business now though; the wood polished to a gleaming shine, and the room filled with soft chatter and the chink of glasses.

The walls were draped with black silk, the furniture decidedly more functional than luxurious. The decorations were understated and minimalist, and in sharp contrast to the extravagance of the palace at Claritas. The guests were dressed simply too, swathed in dark materials and long-sleeved garments, their outfits offering very little to distinguish them from one another.

Ashton regarded it all with a bemused expression on his face as he surveyed the room, dressed in a simple black suit with his vivid curls brushed back neatly from his forehead. Calum stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back, his expression carefully emotionless although he smirked a little when Ashton leant closer to murmur in his ear.

“So _this_ is what passes for a party in Tenebris?” the older boy asked sarcastically, trying to keep his lips from curving into a smile. Calum snorted quietly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“No alcohol, no laughter, and the music’s boring,” the younger boy replied with a wry twist to his lips. “Sounds about right, angel.”

“Fuck me,” Ashton said faintly, eyes widening in mock-horror. “No wonder you all went so wild at the Opening Gala.”

He fell suddenly quiet when he saw the King and Queen entering the Lake Suite, and Calum bit his lip as he watched the Crown Prince, taking in the way he shifted uneasily as he straightened his shoulders, clearly trying to appear bigger than he was. It was obvious he felt intimidated by them and Calum was reassured by that, at least until he saw the nervous determination sparkling in the older boy’s eyes.

“Do you think your parents will like me?” Ashton asked hesitantly, flattening his hair clumsily as he stared across the crowded room towards them. The King and Queen were lingering by the glass wall together, gazing out into the murky water as the sun began to set, their silhouettes in stark contrast to the blood-red of the fast-approaching dusk. “I wanna make a good impression.”

“You will,” Calum said uncomfortably, unable to meet the older boy’s eyes as he smoothed his collar for him. “You’re perfect, angel.” He might have kissed him if they weren’t surrounded by other partygoers, his expression softening when Ashton blushed prettily, smiling down bashfully at his feet. “If they don’t love you, that’s their loss.”

“How’d you always know exactly what to say?” Ashton asked softly, his lips curving upwards as he remembered the night after the attack on the Caelum Assembly Building when the Prince had asked him those words instead. Calum smiled, his thumb lightly stroking the older boy’s throat before he lowered his hand from the Crown Prince’s collar.

“Definitely because I’m the smartest person in the room,” Calum joked, eyes twinkling. “And _not_ … y’know… sheer dumb luck or something.”

“Of course not,” Ashton teased, pressing a brief risky kiss to the younger boy's shoulder as he eased past him, adjusting his tie apprehensively. “So… is it time to introduce me to your mum and dad?”

“Sure,” Calum said heavily, trying to keep the fear he could feel from infecting his voice. “Right this way, angel.”

In the end, it went better than the Prince had hoped, even if his heart _had_ been trying to thump its way right out of his chest on the walk across the room. Ashton was charming enough that Calum found himself captivated and Joy did most of the talking, sticking to pleasantries and non-controversial topics like the Elevare to pass the time.

Ashton relaxed quickly enough, leaning subtly against the Prince’s side as he chatted to Joy, discussing the upcoming challenges and how much he was looking forward to exploring more of Tenebris. Calum even caught Joy smiling a few times, her dark eyes glinting as she glanced at her son, and he might have relaxed himself if not for the worrying twist to his father’s lips as he watched the Crown Prince silently.

“– and no more spur of the moment hair dyeing, alright?” Joy finished firmly as she gave Ashton a slightly reproving smile. “You’re a bad influence, Mr. Irwin.” Her teasing comment drew an infectious giggle from the older boy and Calum smiled weakly, although his humour faded when the Crown Prince looked between the King and Queen, his gaze lingering on David.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you both,” Ashton said warmly, his hazel eyes widening in surprise when the King removed his gloves, reaching to shake his hand. Ashton clasped it eagerly, clearly relieved that he seemed to have won over David too, and Calum might have been endeared by the suppressed delight on the older boy’s face if his heart hadn’t clenched so sickeningly in his chest.

David’s knuckles whitened a little as he tightened his grip for a moment, his gaze flickering to his son’s with undeniable malice. It could only have been a threat and, as Calum stared fearfully at the place where Ashton's bare skin was touching David's, it was all he could do not to drag the Crown Prince away in terror.

“I… I’m gonna steal Ash away from you now,” the Prince said faintly, trying and failing to plaster a convincing smile across his lips. “Looks like he needs another drink.” The older boy glanced at him in surprise, his head cocking to one side curiously at whatever emotions he could see burning in Calum’s frantic eyes.

“Of course,” Joy said calmly, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Don’t stray too far though, boys. Remember the press conference in half an hour. You know how excited everyone is to hear about the second half of the tournament.”

“We won’t forget,” Calum said weakly, his arm wrapping firmly around Ashton’s waist as he drew him away from David, to safety. “We’ll be there.”

*

Ashton would always hate press conferences, no matter how many he was subjected to. This one was made marginally less painful by Sierra rolling her eyes whenever the reporters asked a particularly ridiculous question but the Crown Prince could definitely think of better ways to spend his evening. He consoled himself with the warmth of Calum’s thigh pressed against his beneath the table instead; with the comforting weight of his necklace and the twinkle in the Prince’s dark eyes whenever Ashton caught his gaze.

Even when the reporters mentioned the attack at Flos Bay which had almost resulted in the Crown Prince’s death, he remained relatively calm. Calum responded with a particularly scathing remark – something along the lines of: “Well how do you _think_ he feels after something like that?!” – while Sierra pretended to yawn with boredom at the proceedings, her expression just soft enough that Ashton knew she cared really.

It didn’t help that the longer he sat there in front of the cameras, the more he became aware that his body ached. He shifted uncomfortably as he took a sip of water, listening as Calum carefully avoided lingering on the details of his 'heroics' during the second challenge when he'd saved the Crown Prince's life.

Ashton stretched his back out as subtly as he could, pressing his lips together against the ache although his cheeks flushed when Sierra frowned at him in concern. He knew he'd been pushing himself too hard in training over the last few days – mostly because it was a good distraction from his homesickness – but he couldn't quite shake off the feeling that he wasn't doing enough.

He'd been so determined to return to full strength and he hated the fact that it didn't seem to be possible anymore. He'd been at peak fitness back when he'd joined the army and served on the Boneflats, and with every occasion where he failed to lift the same weights as Calum or couldn't quite keep up with the younger boy on the treadmill, Ashton felt a little more shame spreading inside him.

He was quiet on the way out of the press conference, his shoulders slumped although some of his bitterness drained away when Calum's arm wrapped warmly around his waist. The Prince pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, his dark eyes growing worried in the dim light of the quiet passageway.

“Angel?” he murmured, his gaze softening when he noticed how miserable the older boy looked. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ashton said quietly, offering a weak shrug. “Just tired I guess.”

Sierra was watching the Crown Prince with poorly-disguised concern too, tucking a lock of dark hair behind one ear uneasily as she shot Calum a wary look. The corridor they were standing in was empty and she folded her arms across her chest, squaring her shoulders unhappily.

“Let's get back to the party,” she said firmly. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can escape.”

“Exactly,” Calum agreed, looking a little uncomfortable at the hard stare Sierra fixed him with. “At least there's no reporters to gawk at us in there.”

“True enough,” Ashton muttered, smiling wryly. “C'mon, you two. Let's see if they've left us any food.”

He forced a smile as he followed the Prince back into the main room, fidgeting uncomfortably in his plain black suit as he sank down gratefully into the chair he’d vacated earlier in the evening. The music had taken an even more sombre turn in their absence and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes when he caught Laura's gaze across the crowded room. She was sitting at a table which overlooked the lake with Michael, Luke, and Niall, all of them talking quietly amongst themselves.

Ashton felt a pang as he watched them, his shoulders slumping a little when he glanced around at his own table. Sierra’s dark eyes were scanning the room warily while Calum continued to watch him apprehensively, his soft sigh lost under Mali and Ashley’s quiet muttering as they eyed the other guests distrustfully.

The distance between their two tables seemed to stretch painfully in that moment and Ashton bit his lip hard, hating the unexplained tension that was threatening to tear his friends apart. He shifted in his chair, settling back subtly against Calum’s side as the Prince’s fingertips stroked soothingly over the warm skin at the nape of his neck which might have been comforting if Sierra’s eyes hadn’t flickered towards them with something like fear.

She didn't seem to want to let him out of her sight anymore and Ashton tensed at the implications of this, until not even Calum smoothing down his curls was enough to keep his heart from clenching horribly in his chest. The guilt was still glimmering in the younger boy’s eyes when the Crown Prince caught his gaze and Ashton shivered, his hands balling into fists under the table.

Michael was watching him across the room, his emerald eyes damp even from this distance, his face pale as bone as his gaze flickered from Ashton to the Hood siblings. There was something inexplicable about the expression on Michael’s face; something too twisted with love and pain to make any sort of sense at all.

Ashton lowered his gaze, his heart pounding in his chest when Calum drew back, taking all of the warmth with him.

That was the moment when it became impossible for Ashton to deny that something had gone terribly wrong. The dynamic of his friendship group had changed irrevocably ever since that night at Flos Bay and he knew they were keeping secrets from him. It wasn’t only Calum’s face where the guilt lurked just below the surface and Ashton felt sick with the realisation as he shrank down in his chair, his arms wrapping tightly around himself.

If he was being honest with himself, he’d felt unsafe ever since he’d arrived in Tenebris and that feeling had only worsened with every passing day because it was devastatingly clear that something dangerous was going on. His friendships were fracturing around him and he was afraid of the cause; afraid of whatever secret was powerful enough to break them to dust around them.

Ashton wished he understood what had been so badly broken because, that way, he might stand a hope in hell of fixing things... and besides, if they were left to decay for much longer, he was afraid it would be too late for them.

There would be nothing left to save.

*

“I hate wearing all black,” Laura said sourly, frowning down at herself as she fussed with a lock of golden hair. “I think it makes me look washed out.” She bit her lip unhappily as Luke fell into step beside her, rolling his smoky-lined eyes fondly at his older sister. “Do I look too pale?”

“Positively ghoulish,” Luke lied, ducking when she reached to smack him weakly around the head. “But still radiant compared to the rest of these cheery souls.” A frown grew on his pale face when he glanced around warily at the guests, his palm settling comfortingly in the small of his sister’s back as they headed across the room to obtain drinks for their table. “Y’know, I don’t think I’ve heard a single person laugh this entire time. What a terrible excuse for a party.”

“It’s dreary,” Laura agreed with a heavy sigh that was almost lost beneath the click of her low heels as she followed her brother towards the bar. Her inky black dress flowed around her, cinched in at the waist with three-quarter length sleeves which hid most of her tattoos from view. She picked at the material distastefully as the pair finally came to a stop, grimacing a little at the garment although her expression quickly became a scowl when Luke smirked at her sullenness.

“Still worrying that your dress isn’t flashy enough?” he asked sweetly as he leant over the polished wood, trying to get the barman’s attention without being rude.

“Oh _please_ ,” Laura said grumpily, folding her arms on the bar and pouting up at Luke to very little effect since he was studiously avoiding her gaze. “At least your outfit is pretty, lofty. You’ve got that black lacy sleeve thing going on.”

Luke’s lips curved into an unconscious smile although he sobered when the barman appeared, ordering four fizzy alcohol-free fruit drinks which were unfortunately the most exciting beverages on the menu.

“You don’t need bright colours to look pretty, tiny,” Luke said softly as they waited for their drinks. “You’re beautiful. You always have been.” She blushed, letting her forehead fall to rest bashfully against his upper arm as he huffed out a soft laugh, ducking down to drop a kiss to her long hair. “Isn’t Mike reminding you enough?” Luke asked teasingly, his blue eyes crinkling when Laura flushed brighter. “Maybe I should have a word with him; make sure he’s treating you right.”

“Don’t you dare!” Laura warned him, even as she laughed begrudgingly at the mischievous twinkle in her brother’s eye. “You’d really do that for me?”

“Always,” he said sincerely as his smile grew gentler. “Anything.”

“You sap,” Laura said softly, trying to hide just how happy his words had made her. “C’mon, lofty. Let’s take these drinks back to the others before –” She broke off with a gasp when she turned to find the Queen standing behind them, a placid smile on Joy’s face as she eyed the two fair-haired siblings curiously. Luke’s eyes widened and the tray of drinks wobbled precariously before Laura reached to steady it, blushing once more as she bowed her head shyly.

“Hello, Your Majesty,” she said quietly, elbowing her brother until he came to his senses and politely greeted the Queen too. Joy smiled at their display, her chocolate brown eyes twinkling just the same as Calum’s did.

“Hello, you two,” she said kindly, her tone warm. “Are you both enjoying the party?”

“Oh, definitely,” Luke said brightly, his cheeks flushing pink when his sister grimaced at the awkwardness of his lies. “It’s excellent.”

“Excellent,” Laura repeated, both in false agreement and scorn when Luke flickered a nervous glance at her, looking quite helpless beneath the tray of drinks he was holding. A well-dressed man slipped passed them to reach the bar and the glasses Luke was carrying wobbled ominously. Joy smiled again, dark eyes glinting.

“Perhaps you’d better take those back to your table before you spill them,” she suggested with just a hint of firmness. “Before you ruin my lovely floor.”

“Oh, right,” Luke agreed with an embarrassed smile, blushing hotly. “C’mon, tiny, let’s –”

“Actually, I’d like a word with Laura first,” Joy interjected apologetically, her expression unreadable when the older Hemmings sibling looked at her uncertainly. “Would you mind?”

“Of course not,” Laura said in surprise, unable to keep the slight frown from creasing her brow as she exchanged a nervous look with her brother. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute, Luke.” He left uncertainly, pausing once or twice to glance back over his shoulder which did very little to fill his sister with confidence. Laura bit her lip nervously as she turned to face the Queen, doing what she could to keep the wariness from saturating her expression. She had an inkling of what this might be about and she calmed herself by smoothing her dress down carefully, taking care to keep her gaze averted from the table where Michael was waiting for her.

“Did you want to talk here, Your Majesty?” Laura asked smoothly. “Or somewhere quieter?”

“Here will do nicely,” Joy replied, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about your friendship with Michael.” She spoke delicately, the faint streaks of silver in her hair gleaming beneath the lights as she looked down at Laura, her expression decidedly colder than it had been a few moments before.

“Oh, it’s not a _friendship_ , Your Majesty,” Laura corrected her, smiling a little although it didn't touch her eyes. “I love him.” She glanced towards him unconsciously, her heart clenching a little when she saw his worried face staring back at her. “We’re in love.”

Joy pressed her lips together thinly, her nostrils flaring as she took a deep steadying breath.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” she said quietly, her words almost lost beneath the murmur of conversation and the dull music swelling through the air around them. The rings decorating her fingers were melting into one another, the metal flowing distractingly as it formed and re-formed, and Laura stared down at them in shock for a moment before she realised that Joy must share the same powers as her daughter.

“After Michael’s little display the night of your arrival… well, I’m sure you can understand why my husband and I are so keen to avoid another incident like that,” Joy said gently, her soft tone riling Laura up no end as she fought not to glare at the Queen. “Michael’s behaviour is volatile at the best of times… but with _you_ in the picture? Well, he proved almost as dangerous as the press like to pretend. Can you imagine how he’ll be treated by the wider community once news of your relationship leaks? Can you imagine how he’ll _react_?” Joy pursed her lips, shaking her head in disappointment. “That inevitable storm would make his loss of control on the airstrip look like no more than a little raincloud.”

Laura paled, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she glanced towards Michael guiltily. Little though she wanted to believe it, the Queen’s words rang true and Laura felt small as she wrapped her arms around herself tightly, shivering under Joy’s cool gaze.

“Servant girl or not, Michael’s already made it quite clear that he’ll burn himself up to keep you warm,” the Queen said distastefully. “Perhaps you might like to think about that before you drag him down into the gutter with you.”

Laura stepped back unthinkingly, flinching when she bumped into the well-dressed man from before. His face was twisted with irritation and she blushed as she drew away from him, her eyes wide as she shrank under Joy’s cold stare. After a moment, the Queen’s expression smoothed out and she smiled placidly, looking once more the mild-mannered wife of the Tenebran King.

“Thank you for your time, Laura,” Joy said calmly as she walked away. “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

The Queen disappeared into the crowd swiftly and Laura felt quite sick as she took a stumbling step back towards the table, a lump rising in her throat as her eyes prickled with tears. She wanted to ignore Joy's casually cruel words but she could feel them gnawing away at her and she felt shaken as her trembling hands twisted in her dress, crumpling the material in her fists.

She’d never been spoken down to like this in Claritas; not even by the press. Back home, nobody much cared that her parents were employed by Fletcher and Anne or that Laura herself was in training to work for the palace, keeping the royal family healthy with her healing abilities. It only mattered that she was Ashton’s best friend, regardless of whether or not he was the Crown Prince.

The thought had never crossed her mind that she might tarnish his reputation or hold him back from achieving the things he’d been destined to accomplish, and the same could be said for her relationship with Michael. It seemed ridiculous that Joy believed Laura’s love alone would be Michael’s undoing and she gritted her teeth as she forced herself to uncurl her fists, smoothing her skirt down with deliberate care.

She refused to let Joy upset her or jeopardise her relationship with Michael. Laura loved him too much to fold so easily.

She was halfway back to the table when Ashley appeared in front of her, dressed in her usual black shirt and trousers although there was the subtle but significant addition of a delicate silver bracelet which could only have been a gift from Mali. She fixed Laura with a soft look, her expression unusually warm as she reached to gently squeeze the older girl’s hand, the comforting touch fleeting in the middle of the crowded room.

“I know how you’re feeling right now,” Ashley murmured, the words barely audible with how softly she was speaking. “All you can do is ignore her, okay? She disagrees with mine and Mali’s relationship too, and we haven’t let that stop us.”

Laura bit her lip unhappily as she watched the forced smile on Ashley’s face, aware that the younger girl was probably hurting a lot more than she was letting on. Her relationship with Mali had never exactly been plain sailing and Laura found herself wishing that the two girls would finally be granted the happiness they so badly deserved. They had earned the right to be at peace together.

“Chin up,” Ashley said gently when she saw the tears glimmering in the older girl’s eyes. “No point crying over nasty almost-mother-in-laws.” Laura gave a watery laugh and the younger girl smiled, warm and reassuring. “If it helps, I think it’s because we’re both commoners,” Ashley added, shrugging half-heartedly. “She was never going to like us, no matter what we did.”

Laura shook her head slowly as she accepted this with an unhappy sigh.

“Well, maybe Ash and Cal will have better luck getting her approval then,” Laura joked wearily, rolling her eyes. “Joy couldn’t hate Ash any more than she hates us.”

*

Niall had felt a little on edge all evening if he was being honest with himself.

From the moment he’d first set foot in Tenebris, he’d been treated with barely-veiled wariness and dislike, and it had been grating away at his nerves ever since. He constantly felt unsafe and stressed, and the gloominess of the citadel only served to further lower his mood. The atmosphere was undoubtedly worse at the party though; Niall could feel the animosity filling the room like a choking fog, sending him hunching down as small as possible in his seat, his fingers curled tightly around his glass as his foot tapped anxiously on the floor.

“Hey, frowny face,” Michael said lightly, his tone a lot more cheerful than the weariness on his face might have suggested. “You better start smiling or Luke will come back to fuss over you again.”

Niall’s face softened at the words as his gaze flickered automatically to where the Hemmings siblings were lingering at the bar, and he smiled faintly, shaking his head as he picked idly at a loose thread on his suit jacket. It felt like Luke was his only saving grace in all of this; the younger boy’s love was undeniable now and his urge to protect Niall from the discrimination of the Tenebrans surrounding them had become startlingly clear as the days slipped by.

“He’s really worried about you, isn’t he?” Michael asked in a gentler voice, almost like he could tell what Niall was thinking. “He doesn’t need to be though. These bastards have been glaring at me for years – they’re all bark and no bite… for the most part anyway.” Niall bit his lip uncertainly and Michael reached to squeeze his hand, the comforting warmth almost shocking in a room so full of cold, unfriendly people. “I’ll protect you though,” Michael added, his eyes twinkling at the joke, even as his grip tightened for a moment, like he was just daring someone to try something. “Don’t worry, Ni.”

The din of conflicting emotions in the room seemed to fade a little in the face of Michael’s kindness and Niall relaxed fractionally, taking a sip of his drink when the younger boy’s hand finally slipped back under the table. He winced when he noticed just how many unfriendly looks were currently being levelled at him but his gaze softened when he caught a glimpse of Luke’s grateful smile across the room as he reached to accept a tray of drinks from the barman. Niall’s eyebrows rose when he saw that the Queen had joined them too but a frown quickly creased his brow when a well-dressed man pushed past Luke, his movements rough enough that the younger boy wobbled, almost spilling their drinks.

“That was rude,” Michael muttered as he followed the older man’s gaze. “Then again, I’m not sure why it surprises me. That’s Iratio Iculum. He’s not exactly known for being a nice man, is he?”

“ _That’s_ him?” Niall asked doubtfully, the frown on his face deepening as he stole a glimpse of the infamous politician. “I’ve heard of him and his horrible Purgatio-esque policies but… well, I expected him to look less…”

“Normal?” Michael asked blandly, his tone growing colder as he glared at the politician currently lingering by the bar. “Yeah, that's something you learn very quickly growing up in Tenebris: all the monsters look just like you and me.”

Niall shivered, his muscles growing tense as he eyed Iculum uncertainly. “Why isn’t there better security here?” he asked nervously. “I can only see three guards. If there are people with such dangerously conflicting views attending this party, surely it would make sense to ensure no fights broke out.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Michael asked bitterly. “But unfortunately the King and Queen seem to rely more on being intimidating than actually protecting people.” His expression darkened as his gaze fell to his empty glass, his emerald eyes growing undeniably sad as his hands curled into fists. “After what happened to uncle Tommy… well, it would have been nice if they'd made other people’s safety the priority, rather than their own reputation… but they refused to accept that they’d made mistakes.” He shook his head in disgust, his pale face pinched with disappointment as he glared down at the table. “Nothing changed. They never learned.”

“Some people never do,” Niall said heavily, although he brightened a little when he saw Luke making his way back towards their table with the drinks. He moved with more confidence than he ever had before, the black floral lace covering his arms revealing glimpses of pearly skin as he weaved through the crowded room, and Niall couldn’t quite suppress his jealousy when he noticed that he wasn’t the only one watching his boyfriend with such covetous eyes.

“Hey, darling,” Niall said when the younger boy was close enough, withdrawing his chair for him so that Luke could sink down beside him. “I missed you.” He pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek and Luke smiled shyly, his face flushing a pretty pink as he let his head rest gently on the older man’s shoulder.

“It’s true,” Michael teased with a wry smile, his tone a little distracted. “Niall pined for you the entire ten minutes you were gone, buttercup.” He pulled a face as his green eyes flickered back to the guests mingling between them and the bar, flattening his sandy hair nervously with his fingers. “Where’s Laura?” he asked suddenly as his teeth worried at his bottom lip. “Didn’t she go up to the bar with you?”

“She did,” Luke agreed, frowning faintly at Michael’s obvious concern. “She’s still there I think. The Queen wanted to speak to her about something.”

Michael froze, his green eyes widening as he gazed through the crowd towards her with something bordering on frantic. He half-rose from his chair as a soft “Oh no” spilt from his lips, his spike of fear so strong that Niall almost missed the growing anger radiating from Iculum’s direction. As soon as he detected it, he realised with a surge of dread that it had been there all along; subtle enough to be unnoticeable at first, at least until it flared suddenly hotter.

Neither Michael nor Luke noticed Niall’s sudden preoccupation. The younger Hemmings sibling and Michael were both watching Laura with growing worry, taking in the way she withered as Joy strode away with a self-satisfied expression on her face. Iculum’s piercing gaze was locked on the Queen with something bordering on hunger as she marched past him, completely unaware of the loathing the politician could feel, and Niall lurched to his feet so sharply that he almost fell, sending the glasses rattling as he staggered out from behind the table.

“Ni?” Luke asked nervously, his face paling. “Ni, what are you –”

“The Queen’s in danger,” Niall said frantically, already beginning to shove his way through the guests closest to them. “Call the guards!” he called over his shoulder as his heart raced in his chest. “Iculum means to kill her.”

He heard Michael shouting for help as he forced his way closer, able to sense the politician’s growing determination as he realised that somehow – against all the odds – his plans had been discovered. Joy was standing with her back to Iculum, currently engaged in conversation with her husband as the politician stalked menacingly closer, his hand slipping inside his suit jacket to curl around his weapon.

Iculum’s emotions were radiating so strongly that Niall could sense the blade in the politician’s fist for a moment; felt his hatred and righteousness, and how blinded by loathing the politician was as he tightened his fist around the concealed weapon.

Niall reacted unthinkingly, launching himself through the space between them and slamming into Iculum with as much force as he was able. The man crumpled and Niall pinned him to the ground with his knees, his hands twisting the older man’s arm tightly behind his back to keep him from using the blade to defend himself.

“Unhand me, Claritan scum!” Iculum snarled but he may as well have been making demands of the floor for all the good it did him. The room had gone deathly silent behind them now, save for Niall’s panting breaths and Iculum’s furious pained exclamations as he struggled, fighting uselessly to break free of the younger man’s tight grip. Joy was staring down at them both with an expression so mild that – had she been further away – it might have been possible to miss the alarm buried in her eyes. David’s gloved hand had fallen to settle protectively on his wife’s shoulder, his dark eyes narrowing as he stared between the two men on the floor silently.

Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath before David finally spoke, his icy tone dripping contempt as he quietly demanded: “What is the meaning of this?”

Niall met the King’s gaze evenly, his blue eyes bright even as his knuckles whitened at how desperately he was trying to keep Iculum from lurching to his feet. “Iculum is armed, Your Majesty,” he explained breathlessly, gritting his teeth when the politician began to thrash anew, panicking badly now. “He means to harm the Queen.”

“Oh, he does, does he?” David asked softly, his glare burning down at Iculum as the guards finally appeared. “Seize Iculum.” He spoke carelessly but his eyes glinted with savage pleasure as the politician was wrenched to his feet, still kicking and struggling as he cursed. Niall happily moved aside as he rubbed absently at a blooming bruise where Iculum’s elbow had sunk into his side, a frown creasing his brow as David gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment.

“Search Iculum,” the King ordered after a pause. “Let’s find out the truth.”

Low murmuring broke out as the guards began to rifle through Iculum’s suit jacket but the watching crowd gasped in shock when a wicked-looking knife was withdrawn, the blade glinting sinisterly in the muted light. Iculum had gone curiously quiet, hanging limply in the guards’ tight grip as he fixed Niall with a look that promised a painful death if they ever encountered each other again.

“Take him away,” David said heavily, shaking his head in disgust as the guards hauled the infamous politician out of the room. Joy looked undeniably shaken beside him, her bottom lip held between her teeth as her children fought through the crowd towards her, closely followed by Ashley. An unusually pale-faced Mali got there first, wrapping her arms tightly around Joy as Calum came to a stop too, his cheeks flushed and his eyes suspiciously damp as he held them both close.

Slowly, the crowd began to move back, giving them more room when they noticed the warning glare David was levelling at them. The chatter picked up again and, as the guests finally returned to whatever they’d been doing before, Niall looked up in time to see the rest of his friends arriving. Michael and Laura were holding on to each other tightly while Sierra kept a protective hand resting on Ashton’s arm but Niall only had eyes for Luke.

The pride in his boyfriend’s beautiful blue eyes was blazing and Niall lost himself in it for a moment, at least until David cleared his throat to get his attention. Niall looked over in alarm, his cheeks heating when he noticed the curious look the King was levelling at him, his dark eyes inquisitive but undeniably grateful as he took a step closer.

“You saved my wife’s life,” David said, his tone a curious mixture of appreciation and stunned disbelief. “How did you –” He broke off suddenly, his jaw slackening in shock. “Wait a minute,” he murmured, his expression rapidly becoming appraising. “You’re Horan, aren’t you? Our resident empath.” Niall bristled a little under his gaze and David opened his hands in apology, a thin smile touching his lips for a moment. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

Niall managed to keep his shock hidden, his blue eyes widening fractionally as he reached to weakly shake the King’s extended hand.

“The events of this evening have given me cause to re-evaluate some principles I’ve previously held very close to my heart,” David said thoughtfully, selecting each word with care. “I’m grateful I was persuaded to allow you – an empath – extraordinarily rare passage into my estate, Horan. Had I not, my wife’s life would have been lost due to my own prejudices.”

“I just want to do the right thing, Your Majesty,” Niall said quietly, his heart racing in his chest. “But if you feel tonight has given you a better understanding of empathic abilities, I’m even more grateful I was here to help.” He could feel his friends’ gazes locked on his back as he conversed with the King but Niall didn’t turn to face them, aware of just how painfully important this conversation had the potential to be if he was able to help David change his perspective.

“Tell me how you used your abilities tonight,” the King ordered but there was a grudging gentleness to his tone that hadn’t been present before and Niall felt some of the tension leaking from his muscles.

“I was able to detect Iculum’s heightened emotions,” the younger man explained carefully. “His thoughts were violent enough that they were impossible to miss, even in a room with this many people.” At the King’s confusion, Niall smiled faintly. “When someone’s emotions are strong enough, they have a way of… well, _broadcasting_ them, I guess you could say. Even just looking at Iculum, I had a very clear idea of his plans for the Queen, Your Majesty. I had no choice _but_ to stop him.”

“Others may not have felt the same,” David pointed out, looking a little troubled now. “After the way empaths have been treated, not everyone would behave as honourably as you did, Horan… and, well, I’m not sure I could blame them.” This time Niall found it impossible to keep the shock from rippling across his face and David smiled weakly, his shoulders slumping. “How can I repay you for the compassion you’ve shown my family?”

Niall hesitated, biting his lip to keep from automatically assuring the King that there was no need to repay him. There must be a way to work this situation to his advantage and Niall racked his brains for an idea before he was struck suddenly with inspiration. He straightened up, feeling the boldness flooding through him as he glanced to the side for a moment, meeting Luke’s anxious gaze for just long enough to allow the briefest flicker of a smile to touch his lips.

“I think there _is_ something you could do to repay me, Your Majesty,” Niall said slowly, opening his palms in a placatory gesture. “But it may not be the easiest choice for you to make.”

“Try me,” David said, baring his teeth in his approximation of a grin.

“Well, it’s quite simple really,” Niall said, shrugging easily. “I just wondered whether you’d be open to the idea of hiring more empaths for your security, Your Majesty. Having empaths inside the walls of the citadel and in Effervo in general would help to avoid situations like this… and I think it would go a long way to making amends after the decades of discrimination they’ve had to face.”

“The discrimination that I’ve been the cause of?” David asked with a wry quirk to his lips. Niall watched him evenly.

“I never said that, Your Majesty.”

David sighed at the careful blankness of the younger man’s expression, his hands curling into fists for a moment before he made a conscious effort to unclench them.

“That would involve changing our laws,” the King said seriously, even as his gaze flickered to where Joy was still alive and well nearby. “But… perhaps you make a sensible point, Horan. Times are changing after all. Your presence here is proof of that.” David fixed him with a hard look before he allowed his lips to curve up. “Perhaps it’s time our lawmakers reviewed our legislation around empaths.”

Niall smiled, shaking the King’s proffered hand once more before he took a step back, his expression rueful.

“Thank you for your consideration, Your Majesty,” he said sincerely. “Now, if you don't mind, I'll take my leave so that you can spend some time with your family.”

Niall turned away to find his friends staring at him in stunned silence, their expressions nothing short of astonished. He allowed himself the barest hint of a smile, even as his hands started to tremble a little now that the adrenaline had burnt itself out of his system. Luke reached for him the moment Niall was close enough, uncaring of who else might see as he wrapped his arms warmly around his boyfriend, pressing a kiss to the older man’s forehead.

“You’re a hero, Ni,” Luke breathed, soft enough that no one else could hear. The words only made Niall cling to him tighter, his fingers twisting in the soft material of the younger boy’s shirt as he anchored them together, breathing in the comforting smell of his boyfriend’s skin.

“Love you, darling,” Niall whispered, trembling with relief and the force of the dizzying emotions he could feel filling the room around him.

“Love you too, sunshine,” Luke murmured, cuddling him closer. “I’m so glad you didn’t get hurt. That was very brave.”

Niall flushed when he felt his friends patting him on the back, their pride tangible even as they slipped away to give the pair some space, clearly able to detect that Niall badly needed it. Luke cradled his boyfriend’s ace gently, his pride unmistakeable as he pressed a soft kiss to Niall’s blushing cheek.

“Let’s go upstairs, hero,” Luke murmured, his lips quirking into a soft smile. “I’m tired of sharing you with everyone else.” One hand rose to rest warmly on the older man’s hip and Niall shivered at the glint in Luke’s eyes, his mouth going dry. “Think we might need to celebrate.”

“Anything for you, Lukey,” Niall promised with an anticipatory grin. “You know that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought <3


	17. Perfect Solution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm sorry for the delay but I've been away on holiday and very busy with work.  
> Thanks as always to Laura for helping inspire me enough to finish this chapter!  
> I hope you'll all enjoy this incredibly angsty chapter.
> 
> Trigger warning for self-harm and anxiety, as well as non-graphic physical (and psychological) abuse.

**_Somebody to lean on, somebody to hold;_ **

**_It’s just another to lead on before I let go_ **

**_And I ain’t trying to be lonely._ **

**_It’s only that everything I touch turns to stone._ **

**_Maybe I’m better off on my own._ **

_\- Maybe, Lewis Capaldi_

 

Calum still felt shaken the next day at the terrifying thought of just how close he and Mali had come to losing their mother. He saw the murderous rage twisting Iculum’s face as Niall pinned the politician to the ground whenever he closed his eyes and Calum felt sick with it as he crept out of Ashton’s room, leaving the Crown Prince dozing fitfully behind him.

Calum had discovered the night before that even his dizzying relief at his mother’s safety wasn’t enough to drown out the guilt he felt whenever he saw the hint of mistrust in Ashton’s eyes. There was an agonising distance growing between them with every passing day and Calum wished more than anything that he could find a way to bridge it; wished it with an intensity that sent his pulse thundering in his veins, leaving the scrapes on his thighs throbbing in time with his frantic heartbeat.

If he was being honest with himself, though, his heart had been racing since last night and his father was to blame. The King had watched Niall slip away from the party with a thoughtful expression on his face, still mulling over the Claritan healer’s requests to review Tenebran laws and treat empaths with respect, and when David had murmured: “Perhaps Horan has a point”, Calum’s legs had almost buckled beneath him.

In all his life, he’d never once heard his father admit that he was wrong; had never once heard him acknowledge his prejudices in any meaningful way. Calum hadn’t thought his father _capable_ of such introspection and to see what was almost compassion on the King’s face as he spoke to Niall – a relative stranger – had shaken the Prince to the core.

He’d spent the night tossing and turning sleeplessly in bed, his mind racing as he dwelled on exactly what this newfound empathy might mean for his plight. It was probably a foolish hope but Calum found himself praying that this might be an indication that David had the potential to change.

He’d already proved himself kinder and more thoughtful than Calum had ever believed possible… so perhaps David would be willing to change his mind about _other_ things too: namely, his vengeful plan to have Ashton killed.

Calum’s stride lengthened as his feet carried him down the cold passageway, his eyes narrowing as he headed towards his father’s study. He wished briefly that he’d thought to kiss Ashton before he left on such important business but the older boy had looked _almost_ peaceful in sleep and that was an all too rare occurrence these days. Maybe it was better to slip away like this, with his secrets carried close to his chest. There was less chance of collateral damage if Calum dealt with this alone; less people to get caught in the crossfire between a desperate Prince and a vindictive King.

It was early enough in the morning that Calum wasn’t certain David would even be in his study yet but he had to try. There was no chance at all of David accepting his son's terms if the Prince humiliated him in front of others so catching the King alone was best, no matter how difficult. Ashton’s only chance of survival rode on this moment, with Calum praying that his father had enough humanity to comprehend his only son’s anguish.

Calum let out a soft sigh of relief when he saw the guards standing stoically outside his father’s study because that at least meant that the King was inside. The knock on the door seemed to reverberate deafeningly through the silent passageway, the seconds ticking by agonisingly before David called for him to enter, his tone harsh enough that Calum cringed as he crossed the threshold, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Calum,” David said in surprise, his tone softening fractionally as the surprise rippled across his face. “What brings you here so early?”

The King’s greying hair was unusually rumpled and, strangely, he was still dressed in the dark clothing he’d donned for the party the evening before, save for his gloves lying discarded on the desk. He must have spent the night in his study and Calum bit his lip as he came to a stop in front of his father’s desk, his heart racing faster than ever as his fingertips dug reflexively into his thighs.

“I… I really need to talk to you, dad,” he said quietly, his words choked with suppressed tears as the anxiety coiled red-hot around his lungs. “This is important.”

“Then you’d better sit down,” David said, his face pale with weariness. He watched his son strangely as Calum sank into the chair, his chocolate brown eyes falling shut for a moment under the weight of his father’s gaze. “What seems to be the problem, son?”

“I… I just…” Calum’s words dried up in his throat and he swallowed uselessly, his eyes prickling as his hands curled into fists. All of his carefully formulated arguments had slipped straight out of his head and he could’ve cried out of frustration when he saw the pitying expression on his father’s face as he watched his son’s struggles silently. “I can’t do this anymore, dad.”

David blinked in surprise, straightening up in his chair with something that was almost alarm when Calum’s expression became worryingly blank. The Prince had never been particularly skilled at hiding his emotions and – try as he might – David couldn’t hide his concern at the frightening emptiness unfurling fathoms deep in his son’s exhausted eyes.

“Dad,” Calum choked out and it sounded almost like a sob as the boiling tears finally trickled free. He wiped them away in disgust, knuckling the dampness from his cheeks as the shame twisted painfully in his chest. His face was flushed, his lips parted with what might have been pain as he slumped back in his seat. “I can’t do this anymore,” he repeated, weaker by the moment. “I’m done.”

“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you,” David said softly and the worry saturating his weary expression was so jarringly alien that it allowed Calum to regain some small vestige of self-control.

“It’s you, dad,” he said bitterly, his lips pressing together bloodlessly for a moment as he inhaled through his nose, fighting for a calmness he didn’t feel. “It’s your plan.”

David watched him in silence, his bare hands flexing on the arm rests of his chair as his expression became distinctly unhappy. He seemed too tired to fight today and Calum felt strangely powerful as he leant closer, his dark eyes narrowing.

“We’ve had this conversation before, son,” David said in a strained voice. “Have you really come back again to beg for Ashton’s life?”

“No,” Calum whispered, hanging his head for a moment as he steeled himself, blond hair falling across his face. “I’ve come to beg for my own instead.”

The silence in the study was deafening as Calum sank lower in his chair, his fingernails digging into his thighs hard enough to draw blood. David was quiet across from him, his expression twisted into something miserable and confused as he watched his only son unhappily. The Prince barely paid his father any mind as he closed his eyes for a moment, seeing Ashton's sleeping face flickering before him like a promise.

He was the reason Calum was back here again, with his heart on his sleeve and the tears burning hot in his eyes. He just couldn’t tell his father that; not when it was so painfully clear that the King refused to see sense where the Crown Prince was concerned. It seemed that Ashton’s only chance of survival now was if David felt moved to protect his own flesh and blood. No amount of pleading on the Claritan’s behalf would do any good at all which meant that Calum needed to be even more cunning now,  when his mind already felt like it was tearing itself apart in an effort to cope with everything.

All Calum could hope for now was that – by saving his own life – perhaps he could save Ashton’s too.

“You know why I wish to see this plan through to the end,” David said after a long moment, his face paling as he thought of his lost brother. “For the past year, I’ve kept myself sane with the knowledge that I _will_ have revenge for Thomas’ murder.” His shoulders slumped at the impassive expression on his son’s tear-stained face and David withered a little, his bare fingers twisting together beneath the desk. “If I don’t have this plan to focus on, what will be left for me?”

“How about the _surviving_ family you’ve been neglecting?” Calum asked pointedly, hating the nastiness of his words although he couldn’t deny that they seemed to be scraping away at his father’s defences. “What about actually paying attention to the world around you, instead of whatever warped reality you’ve been living in because you refused to acknowledge your grief?”

David actually flinched and Calum’s eyes widened as he straightened up in the chair, his hands curling into fists as he searched for the words that would stitch his world back together again.

“What would you have me do?” David whispered, looking quite lost as his emotions unfurled on his face for the first time in more years than the Prince cared to count. Calum watched his father stonily, his hands trembling as he looked the King dead in the eye.

“Say that you’re finished; that the plan is no more,” Calum said in a hard little voice. “Killing Ashton isn’t going to bring your brother back, dad, whether it’s me or some faceless henchman committing the murder.” He fell quiet for a moment, his eyes gleaming when David pressed his lips together hard enough that they went bloodless. “You wanna know why, dad? Because Tommy is _dead_.” He punctuated the word by slamming his palm down on the desk, hard enough to rattle everything on the polished wood as he drew in a panting breath. “He’s **dead** and there’s nothing on all of Cerasus that can bring him back, and that’s something you’ll just have to accept.”

The silence in the study was painful as David’s expression became wounded, his fingernails biting into his palms. The light overhead flickered for a moment, a true testament to the emotions flooding through him as he watched his son helplessly, stunned by the weight of his grief. Calum’s hardened expression softened fractionally and he sighed, shifting closer in his seat as his palms came to rest on the desk.

“Do you love me more than uncle Tommy, dad?” he asked quietly, his tone almost _gentle_ as the sun slowly rose in the sky outside. David’s face was ashen now, his eyes wide as the bulb finally sputtered out overhead. The light in the room was muted, the distant sunrise filtering into the study as the King slumped down in his chair.

“Calum,” he said weakly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “Calum, you can’t expect… it isn’t the _same_ –”

“Enough with the evasion, dad,” the Prince said softly. “It’s a yes or no question. Do you love me more than Thomas?”

“Yes!” David admitted with a hint of desperation, sagging in his chair as the blood heated his cheeks. “Yes, I do.”

“Alright,” Calum said, the trembling in his hands worse now as he drew in a shaky breath, his lungs aching painfully. “Then how about this: do you hate Ashton more than you love me?”

“Son…” David said heavily. “Can’t you just –”

“I’m waiting.” Calum’s words grew sharper, his dark eyes narrowing as he thought once more of Ashton lying in bed, curled up beneath the blankets with the enchanted necklace resting over his heart, vulnerable in sleep.

“No,” David said at last, seemingly resigning himself to the questioning. “No, son. There’s nothing in this world I love more than you and your sister. I thought you knew that.”

“Then you thought wrong. I've _never_ known that.” Calum couldn’t speak for a moment as the lump rose in his throat because everything about this felt so unfair. All his life he’d longed to find proof that his father loved him but, now that he’d been confronted with the evidence, it didn’t feel like enough. Calum still felt like he’d been scraped raw inside.

“You wanna know something else, dad?” he asked quietly, his voice colder than ever. “You’re gonna lose us too if you’re not careful. You’re already pushing us away.” Even despite the sunlight shining into the room, Calum felt cold as he stared across at his father, so focused on maintaining eye contact that he didn’t notice the way his suppressed emotions were causing ripples to spread on the surface of the lakes of Effervo beyond the citadel. He was quite certain that this conversation was more important than any he’d ever had before.

“Mali guessed the truth about your plan, dad,” Calum warned him, pitching his voice low enough that David had to lean closer to hear him. “She knows you wanted me to kill Ashton to avenge uncle Tommy. She knows about the threats; knows you would've stopped at nothing to see this through to the end.” A shudder tore through Calum’s frame suddenly, sending his arms wrapping around himself as his teeth sank painfully into his bottom lip.

“This plan is killing me, dad,” he said bluntly, his lips quirking into a self-deprecating half-smile that did nothing to hide the agony saturating his expression. David was staring at him in pained confusion now and Calum took great delight in listing all of the troubles currently plaguing him, his tone sharpening with every word. “For _months_ , it’s been ruining my life. I can’t concentrate on training for the third challenge. I can barely eat or sleep when I feel like this!” He raked his fingers harshly through his freshly-dyed blond hair, his eyes stinging with angry tears.

“My friends suspect that something’s wrong too,” Calum said flatly, his damp gaze dropping frantically when he could no longer stand to watch the fire burning in his father’s eyes. “I’m losing _all_ of the people I care about trying to keep your secrets. They’ll never forgive me if they find out the truth; if they find out that I’ve been lying to them all along.” A choked sound escaped him without his permission as he hastily suppressed a sob that still sent fresh tears boiling down his cheeks. “I’ve lost Michael because of this, dad,” he whispered, looking nothing short of tortured. “He hasn’t spoken to me in days. He can’t even bring himself to _look_ at me and I can’t fucking deal with this without him, dad. I _can’t_.”

David reached for him but he faltered at the last second, his bare hand falling down limply onto the polished wood of the desk. Calum squeezed his eyes tightly shut but the tears continued to escape, sliding down his overheated face as his heart shredded itself in his ribs.

“If I lose Ash too, I won’t be able to cope,” Calum said tearfully, the confession burning in his mouth as he remembered how scornfully David had treated his son’s emotions in the past… but none of that contempt was present today. David just looked empty instead, like Calum’s words had hollowed him out somehow. “I’m in love with Ashton and… and if I lose him… well, I honestly think it’ll kill me. I won’t be able to carry on anymore.”

“Son, don’t –”

“He has my heart, dad,” Calum said fiercely, his chocolate brown eyes glittering with tears. “He has my _whole_ heart. I don’t want to live in a world where he’s not beside me.” He shivered as the declaration left him, realising with a sickening jolt that not a single word he’d said was a lie. Half the time these days, Ashton felt like the only reason Calum had the strength to keep on breathing.

“I’m losing my fucking mind,” he whispered, knuckling his tears away uselessly as they continued to fall. “I don’t know how to fix things anymore and… and I need you to do it for me. I need _help_.” He faltered as the shame seared through him, feeling smaller than he ever had as the sun finally burnt through the early morning mist outside, sending the tears clinging to Calum’s cheekbones sparkling like dewdrops. “I need you to be my fucking _dad_ for once,” he pleaded. “Before it’s all too much.”

Calum slumped back with a ragged sigh as his eyes fluttered shut, the lashes spiky with tears. He had no fight left to give now and he could only pray that he’d done enough. There had been no point in threatening David – his father had never responded well to blackmail – but the guilt had seemed like a better tool to wield; much more effective as the King’s only son fell to pieces in front of him.

Calum opened his eyes numbly, gazing over at his father through a sheen of tears as he saw the torment and indecision warring on David’s face. It seemed he needed one more gentle push to shove him over the edge and, fortunately, Calum’s aching heart had just provided him with the perfect solution.

He had just recalled with perfect clarity the _last_ time the pair had sat together in this study on Clifford Memorial Day: the bleeding cut on the Prince’s ankle from the thorny vine; the panic Calum had felt at the prospect of being forced to kill the Crown Prince under the guise of competing in the Elevare; but, most of all, the disappointment and sadness David hadn’t quite been able to hide when Calum had been afraid of his father’s touch.

The King’s hand was still resting bare on the desktop and Calum reached for it cautiously, tangling their fingers together as his heart shuddered in his chest. David stared at him in stunned silence, his lips parting weakly as his eyes gleamed damply in the sunlight. Calum squeezed his hand tightly, uncaring of his tears now as he held his father’s gaze, his desperation lending him more strength than he’d ever felt before.

“I love you, dad,” he said wetly, a shocked gasp escaping him when the King tightened his grip, giving the Prince’s hand a gentle squeeze. “But I love Ashton too... I love him _so_ much.” Calum was shaking worse than ever, a sob building in his chest that made his words sound strangled as the pain and guilt spread through him. “Please, _please_ let him live, dad. I swear I’ll never ask you for anything again if you agree to this. His safety and happiness is all I want. I don’t care about anything else anymore.”

“But…” David’s voice trailed away as the horror grew in his eyes but he didn’t release his son’s hand and Calum was shocked by just how much the warm contact comforted him. “Surely you understand… the contract is _rigged_ , Calum; don’t you remember? The Elevare still demands blood. A life needs to be lost during the final challenge.”

The Prince felt a sinking sensation in his chest but he fought to keep the dread from his expression. He offered a watery smile instead, straightening up in his chair even as his heart broke in his chest.

“Then it’ll be my life,” Calum said softly, feeling the resolve rippling through him as the lakes calmed beyond the window. “I’m not killing Ashton and… and if you were truly being honest earlier when you said that you cared about me more than Tommy, you won’t hurt him either.”

“Thomas is –”   

“He’s dead,” Calum interrupted harshly, his teeth drawing blood as he tortured his lip. “He loved you and now he’s dead, and he would _not_ have wanted you to kill for him, dad.” His tone was beseeching now, his eyes damp as he held his father’s hand tighter. “Tommy was always the kindest of our family, wasn’t he? He was the very best of us. That’s why he insisted on fighting in the war.”

“But… but, Calum…” David’s misery and pain were palpable in the muted light, and the Prince wanted to revel in those rare emotions but he felt too much like he’d been beaten. “You shouldn’t die because of my thirst for revenge, son.”

“Then find a way to fix this,” Calum said helplessly as his eyes burned with fresh tears. “You made this mess to begin with, dad.”

David didn’t argue and Calum bit his lip hard as he fell silent, breathing heavily as he blinked the dampness away, unwilling to let any more tears fall in his father’s presence. Their fingers were still tangled and the Prince’s eyes widened when David squeezed his hand gently, offering the sort of silent comfort that Calum had never received from his father before.

“You really love him?” David asked out of nowhere, his words gentler than they’d ever been directed at Calum. “Enough to make all of this worthwhile?”

“I do, dad,” the Prince said quietly, his shoulders slumping. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along.”

“I suppose your actions at Flos Bay should have been evidence enough of this,” David murmured, a wry quirk to his lips that hadn’t been there before. Calum looked up in surprise and the King’s expression softened into something undeniably proud. “Mali told me what you did that night, son; told me how brave you were.” He shook his head slowly, his grip tightening for a moment as his thumb smoothed comfortingly over the younger boy’s knuckles. “You behaved very honourably, Calum. I’m… I’m proud of you.”

The Prince’s heart felt too big for his chest as he gazed at his father in disbelief, his vision growing blurry with the tears as the sun rose in the cloudless sky outside.

“I need you to do something important for me, dad,” Calum said quietly, the hope blazing in his dark eyes as he thumbed a tear away. “I want you to promise me you’ll end this plan once and for all. I want you to promise that Ashton will be _safe_.”

There was a moment of silence before David sighed quietly as the last of the fight drained out of him.

“I promise,” he said heavily, the sincerity evident in his eyes. “From this point forward, I swear neither I nor anyone under my command will harm Ashton.” He watched his son unhappily as he finally withdrew his hand, his expression tinged with worry. “I only wish I could say the same for the others who are so determined to harm your Crown Prince.”

“Thank you, dad,” Calum said, his tone soft although a frown bloomed quickly on his face as he realised something. “Wait… do you mean the Purgatio?” He tilted his head to one side in confusion when his father nodded grimly, his brow creasing. “But… they’re under your command, aren’t they? Surely you could just order them to stop.”

“No, son,” David said seriously, his dark eyes glimmering with enough concern that – possibly against the odds – the Prince believed he was telling the truth. “The Purgatio are nothing to do with me. It seems that someone else is pulling their strings.”

“Oh,” Calum breathed, shivering as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. “I thought…” His voice trailed away and he shook his head silently, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip as he considered this new information. “Well, I wish whoever it is would stop. They’ve already nearly killed me and Ash on more than one occasion. I’m not sure we’ll survive another run-in with them.”

David’s shoulders slumped unhappily at the realisation and Calum sighed again, his face twisting with misery as he tried to work out his next steps. He had no idea what to do and the third task was looming closer every day, taking up any remaining headspace left from worrying about Ashton’s wellbeing. It still didn’t feel like the right time to tell the Crown Prince the truth about why Calum had initially been sent to Claritas and Calum bit his lip harder as he realised just how deeply the betrayal would cut Ashton, regardless of the actions the Prince had taken since to keep him safe.

Maybe once Calum had got to the bottom of the Purgatio mystery, it would be a better time to tell the Crown Prince the truth about the plan… or maybe not. Calum would cross that bridge when he came to it but, right now, he had more important things to worry about.

“I’ve got one more question for you, dad,” he said hesitantly, his expression twisting with trepidation. “When you shook Ash’s hand yesterday without gloves… did you take any of his magic? I couldn’t stop thinking about it last night.”

David sighed quietly, his expression crestfallen as he met his son’s gaze guiltily.

“No, I didn’t,” he said softly, his lips pressing together unhappily at the wariness in the Prince’s exhausted eyes. “I’ll admit the thought crossed my mind but… no. I couldn’t do that to you. It felt wrong.”

“Okay,” Calum said quietly as a little of his tension leaked away. “Then maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

He rose slowly, the weariness settling in his bones as he took a step back from the desk, away from his father. Calum gripped the back of the chair he’d been sitting in, holding on tightly enough that his knuckles whitened, his heart aching in his chest when he caught the King’s gaze. David’s lips parted as though he was going to speak but, after a moment, he simply looked away, shaking his head wordlessly.

The sudden stab of disappointment Calum felt in that moment was enough to hurt and he felt breathless as he turned away, desperate to escape. His fingers had already curled around the door handle when David finally found the courage to speak, his words a little choked, his voice strained with stress and burning honesty.

“I… I truly _am_ sorry, Cal,” David admitted, his eyes shining brightly with tears. Calum’s knees weakened beneath him and he leant back heavily against the door, swallowing with difficulty past the lump rising in his throat.

“Cal?” the Prince repeated, a bitter twist to his lips as a hot tear rolled down his cheek. “You haven’t called me Cal in years.”

“I haven’t been much of a father to you either,” David pointed out sadly before a flicker of hope and determination coloured his face. “Perhaps it’s not too late to make up for lost time.”

In that moment, Calum couldn’t have kept his tears from falling if he tried but perhaps it didn’t matter. After all, they’d already seen so much of each other. What was one more tear?

“It’s never too late, dad,” he said softly, shooting his father a watery smile over his shoulder. “Not while we’re both still here. Not while there’s fight left in us.”

Calum left the study then, before he could break down completely, barely looking where he was going as he raced back down the corridor outside, his cheeks tear-streaked, his expression saturated with relief and fear in equal measures. He hadn’t been so outwardly emotional in a long time, and it almost felt like Fate when the Prince turned a corner and crashed straight into the Queen.

They both stumbled and Calum blushed, chagrined as Joy righted herself with a hand on the passage wall. Her surprise melted quickly into concern and he bit back a sob as she reached for him, drawing him into her arms. The hug was as pleasant as it was unexpected and Calum found himself crying harder when she thumbed his tears away gently, pressing a kiss to his dyed blond hair. Joy’s perfume was the same flowery scent she’d been wearing for years and it brought him right back to his childhood; made him feel like a little kid again as she cradled his cheeks for a moment, gazing at him as she clearly tried to determine what was wrong.

He was still in a state and she glanced towards the guards nearby with pursed lips before she took his hand, leading him back the way she’d come, towards the quarters she shared with her husband. It was darker and quieter down there, with any guards stationed far enough away that the Prince would have the peace and privacy he needed to get himself back under control.

“Has something happened, darling?” Joy asked softly, holding her son’s gaze as Calum dried his tears with his sleeve. Her eyes narrowed at his non-committal jerky shrug and she pressed her lips together, clearly weighing something up before she let out a soft sigh, brushing his cheek one last time with the pad of her thumb. “Have you had words with your father?”

“Sort of…” Calum’s voice trailed away as he shrugged helplessly, biting his lip as he tried to work out how much was safe to tell her. The relief he’d felt upon seeing her – especially after her brush with death the night before – was slowly being replaced with uncertainty when he glimpsed the strange glint in her dark eyes and he shivered, putting a little space between them as he took a step back.  “I – I don’t –”

“You needn’t look so alarmed, son,” Joy said kindly when she saw how much he appeared to be struggling to find the words. “There’s no reason to keep secrets from me. I know about your father’s plan, darling. He isn’t as subtle as he likes to think.” When the Prince seemed content to simply stare at her in shock, Joy opened her palms in a conciliatory gesture, her lips quirking into a humourless smile.

“There’s no need for you to worry anymore,” she reassured him. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with your father’s vendetta for so long but I promise you won’t have to from this point on.” She fell quiet, glancing around at the empty passageway to ensure they were truly alone before she took a step closer, her palms settling firmly on her son‘s tense shoulders as she lowered her voice. “You see… since the start of the tournament, I’ve been doing my best to… not _dismantle_ your father’s plan exactly… but to bypass it, I suppose you could say. I was sure there had to be a way to achieve his desires without forcing you to carry out such dirty work and, as it turns out, I was correct.”

The dread rose in Calum slowly, washing over him like the lake water beyond the citadel as he shivered at the feeling of goosebumps crawling across his skin. There was something badly wrong here but the Prince couldn’t work out what it was yet; not while he was still missing the final puzzle piece that would make sense of all this chaos. His heart raced faster in his chest at the hint of smugness on the Queen’s face and he bit his lip hard as his scraped thighs ached, throbbing in time with his frantic pulse.

“Back at the beginning of the year, shortly after you were declared the Tenebran champion for the Elevare, I made contact with a man named Reg Princeps,” Joy explained, her words softer still as Calum leant a little closer despite himself, keen to learn the truth after so long. When his expression remained confused, Joy’s eyes narrowed as her fingertips pressed just a little harder into his shoulders. “Does the name not ring any bells, darling?” she asked but the sweetness was gone from her tone now, to be replaced with something much harder. Calum tried to shrug but it was difficult to move with how tightly she was holding him and his frown deepened as he racked his brains, trying desperately to work out why he could feel an inkling of comprehension at the stranger’s name.

“He’s something of a renegade,” Joy added, her tone more meaningful now as she held his gaze, her dark eyes searing. “I know you know this, Calum. _Think_.”

The Prince felt wrong-footed as he followed his mother’s advice, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from asking further questions since it had rapidly become clear that he was only frustrating her. She didn’t often lose her temper but he always hated it on those rare occasions when she became angry so it would be best to avoid that now if at all possible.

“Reg Princeps,” he repeated softly, shuddering a little at the glint of something dangerous shining in the Queen’s eyes. Now that he’d said the name out loud, he realised that Joy had been right all along – Calum _did_ know of the renegade his mother had been in communication with; it just wasn’t someone who was particularly on the Prince’s radar. He’d heard the man’s name on the comms channels before, in news broadcasts or from journalist’s reports but he’d never paid him any particular mind. Calum still didn’t feel any the wiser.

“Oh, Calum, how disappointing,” Joy said with just a hint of sharpness, her eyes flashing in the shadows. “You can’t make the connection? Well, I’ll help you out.” She leant closer still and he swallowed audibly when his back touched the cold stone behind him, his palms beginning to sweat when he realised with no small amount of alarm that this was the most uneasy he’d ever felt around his mother. “Reg Princeps founded the Purgatio, darling. Are things starting to make more sense now?”

Calum felt like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach as he gasped in shock, his breaths quickening as the panic tightened around his chest. He flattened himself back against the wall in her grip but she barely seemed to notice as she began to speak once more, her words twisted with something that was almost exhilaration.

“The Purgatio was created because Reg Princeps wanted to change things for the better,” Joy explained, eyes glittering. “He wants Tenebris and Claritas separated for good, the way we should have been all along.” Her expression darkened suddenly as her tone became colder, her fingertips biting into his shoulders like talons. “I’ve shared his principles for years and that hasn’t changed, no matter how many politicians have begun to spout drivel about our nations living in harmony; living as _friends_.” Her tone became nothing short of venomous as she shook her head in disgust. “Those fools will get what’s coming to them one way or another – just look at what happened to the Cliffords.”

The nausea rising inside Calum took his breath away when he saw the hint of smugness buried in her expression and he tried to jerk out of her grip but it was no good. She was holding him tightly enough to bruise now, her big dark eyes growing beseeching when he struggled, her flowery perfume still playing havoc with his vulnerability as she reminded him once more of how badly he’d relied on her as a child, long before he’d realised just how twisted she was.

“Don’t be frightened, Calum,” she said softly, earnestly. “I worked with the Purgatio for _you_ , darling. Only you. You’re my baby boy.” She stroked his soft cheek with her thumb, her lips thinning when he pulled away from her hard enough to hurt his neck. “I didn’t want you implicated in the murder of Claritan royalty,” she hissed, her anger igniting suddenly. “Don’t you understand that? Everything I did was for you. You should be grateful.”

“ _Grateful_?!” Calum repeated incredulously, his eyes widening with fear and disbelief as his heart pounded frantically in his chest. “You’re working with terrorists – actual fucking _terrorists_ , mum – and for what? To kill my boyfriend so I don’t have to do it?” The hysterical laugh that rose inside him made him feel sicker than ever as she finally released him and he took a staggering step away from her, his hands falling to rest on his wounded thighs as he sucked in a desperate breath.

“He’s not your boyfriend,” Joy said sharply but there was a hint of uncertainty in her words now that hinted at desperation. “You’re acting, darling; playing a part!” She smiled as she flattened his blond curls, her fingernails scratching at his scalp like claws. “That’s why you dyed your hair, isn’t it? It’s why you held his hand during the broadcast, the day of the memorial service.” Her eyes were harder now, her smile forced as a muscle in her jaw twitched. “Nothing between you and the Crown Prince is real, Calum. You’ve played your part excellently but it’s over now. You don’t need to worry anymore.” She stroked his cheek and he reeled back, cringing when he hit his head on the stone wall behind him. “I’ll take care of it.”

Calum stared at her in horror, his hands curled into fists as a vase sitting innocuously on a table nearby shattered when the water inside exploded free. Joy flinched and he drew back further, forcing himself to draw in a deep breath as the blood roared in his ears, making his head spin.

“I’m not playing a part, mum,” Calum said faintly, his knees weakening beneath him as his head throbbed dully. “I _love_ Ashton.” He winced at the shame flooding her expression, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. He felt like he’d been scraped raw with a blunt knife, his hollowed-out insides burning with pain as the betrayal he could feel stung in his veins. “Swear to me that you’re not going to touch him.”

“I’ll do no such thing!” Joy said sharply as her eyes iced over. She gripped his wrist suddenly, her fingers pressing bruises into the skin as she wrenched him closer, turning his hand so that the shiny burn scar on his palm was visible. “Look what he did to you! How can you love someone who hurts you like that?”

“You’re hurting me right now,” Calum said in a strained voice as his limp fingers twitched in his mother’s painful grip. “I still love you.”

She dropped him like he’d burnt her, her eyes rapidly growing damp as she covered her mouth with one trembling hand.

“Darling, you have to understand that I’ve always had your best interests at heart,” Joy said tearfully, even as her gaze flickered guiltily down to where he was protectively cradling his bruised wrist. “It may not feel like it now – especially with your… confusing feelings for Ashton – but I promise this will be for the best. You’ll compete in the tournament; keep your head down and do your best… and the Purgatio will do the rest. Ashton will be gone and we can be a family again, and Tenebris and Claritas will never again try to live in harmony. It will be better for everyone in the long run.”

“You’re mad,” Calum breathed, his hands shaking as he took another shaky step back, away from her. The spilt water from the vase had trickled up to form a ball in his palm now and he let the coolness soothe him for a moment, even as his eyes prickled with tears. “You’ve lost it if you think you’ll get away with this. The Purgatio are _monsters_ , mum… and it looks like you are too.”

“I’m doing this for you, Calum!” Joy repeated, her voice shriller now as the metal bracelets she was wearing clinked ominously, threatening to merge into something altogether more dangerous. Her powers reacted in the same way Mali’s did whenever she felt a strong emotion and Calum thought briefly of the sharp metal claws his sister sometimes forged when she was anxious or angry, and hoped his mother wouldn’t behave the same way now. “This is all for you!” She flushed a little, her expression turning furtive as she fiddled with one of the rings on her fingers, cheeks red with blood. “Reg said –”

“Oh, he’s _Reg_ now, is he?” the Prince demanded, paling as his growing sickness threatened to overwhelm him because… fuck, this was the perfect parallel of his conversation with David the day of the second task. The King had been disbelieving that Calum might actually have fallen in love with the Crown Prince… and now Calum was experiencing the horrible dawning realisation that perhaps his mother might be having an affair with a terrorist hell-bent on killing his boyfriend.

“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” Joy spat, her eyes burning in the shadows. “This will all work out for the best, Calum! You’ll be better off without Claritans here sullying our beautiful nation. In fact, if you met Reg, I’m sure he’d be able to help you see things from his perspective – from the _right_ perspective!” The smile on her face made her look insane through the darkness and Calum wanted nothing more than to run from this dark damp passage… but she was standing between him and freedom, and that meant escape was impossible.

“I don’t want to meet your little terrorist boyfriend, mum,” he said shakily, fighting to keep his voice steady while it felt like the world was crumbling around him. He was in free-fall, plunging down into the growing darkness that had been gnawing away inside him for so long, and Calum wasn’t sure anything in the world could save him if he hit the bottom because he’d shatter into a million pieces.

“The Purgatio have nearly killed me twice already, mum,” he whispered, his words so soft as the water swirling around his shaking fingers began to drop to the floor, the pitter-patter loud as a drumbeat in the silence. “They’ve nearly killed Mali too. Hell, they’ve nearly killed everyone I care about.” He was trembling harder now, his eyes burning with tears as he jabbed a finger at her, his heart breaking in his chest. “How can you discount that? How can you act like your own children are just collateral damage for the xenophobic cause you obviously care so much about?”

“Darling, of _course_ I don’t –”

“No,” Calum said coldly, his words choked around the lump rising in his throat. “No, you don’t get to say a fucking word to me. You forfeit that right the day you put mine and Mali’s lives at risk… the day you decided our nations warring was more important than peace.” He didn’t realise the tears had escaped him until he tasted the salt in his mouth; until he felt how tight his chest was as the sobs built painfully inside him for a second time that morning. “What kind of mother is willing to sacrifice her own children to start a war? You nearly killed both of us!”

For a long moment, the only sounds in the passage were their panting breaths and the dripping of water as the sun rose in the sky outside. There were no windows here though and they remained standing in darkness, with nothing but broken shards of china and their own frenzied emotions for company.

“You make me sick,” Calum said quietly, his tone vehement. “You’ve been plotting behind our backs all along… and you actually thought we wouldn’t find out? That we’d _forgive_ you?!”

“Your father will forgive me,” Joy said determinedly, her eyes narrowing. “He’s always been weak where I’m concerned. Why should this be any different?”

“Because dad loves us more than you,” Calum said with absolute certainty, his father’s words earlier in the study ringing in his head: ‘ _There’s nothing in this world I love more than you and your sister._ ’ He took a step closer, gritting his teeth when the metal of her bracelets slipped down to cover her fingertips like talons. “When he finds out you’ve betrayed us, he’ll never forgive you either, mum. He’ll want you gone. He’ll be angrier than he’s ever been.”

“Except that’s not quite true, is it, darling?” Joy asked softly, her tone growing undeniably sly. “Who do you think planted the seed for his ridiculous plan in the first place?” She released a short bark of laughter, the sound utterly devoid of humour in the appalled silence that followed. “He’s always done whatever I asked of him, now more than ever. He’ll be even more desperate to please me after Iculum’s actions last night.”

There was a dangerous quirk to her lips that made Calum’s blood run cold when he noticed it because it looked _almost_ like she was happy there had been an assassination attempt at the party yesterday. Whether she’d planned it or not, Iculum had played perfectly into her hands, providing yet more proof that the rising tensions caused by the mixing of the two nations could only lead to violence and danger.

“You’ve been using dad like a puppet all along,” Calum breathed, growing even more horrified when he realised that – by extension – she’d been controlling him too. “Was the Purgatio not enough for you?”

She slapped him hard, the metal talons covering her fingertips opening up several shallow grazes on his cheekbone. They stung, the bursts of pain bright and impossible to ignore in the darkness. He cowered away from her, his arms wrapping tightly around himself as the tears boiled over, burning the cuts on his cheek like acid as he fought to keep his sobs locked inside.

“Please don’t do this, mum,” he begged, hating himself for how weak she made him feel as he cringed in her shadow. “Please just… just order the Purgatio to pull back. Pay them off so they’ll leave us in peace and… and I won’t tell dad about your affair. I won’t tell him _anything_ if you do this one thing for me now.”

A drop of blood rolled hot down Calum’s cheek and he shuddered, closing his eyes as the hint of a sneer curved the Queen’s mouth unpleasantly.

“I don’t want Ashton to die,” he whispered helplessly, his face sticky with tears and blood, his eyes sore from crying. “Please don’t kill him, mum. _Please_.”

“Do you want to know something, darling?” Joy asked sharply, her words biting like a bear trap. “When you cower like that, you’re just as pathetic as your father.”

Calum lunged under her arm without thinking of the consequences, desperate only to put as much space between them as possible. His heart raced frantically with fear when she reached for him and he almost fell in his haste to escape down the corridor. He felt more frightened and alone than he ever had when he came to a junction in the passages, the only sounds his pulse roaring in his ears as he gasped breathlessly. He didn’t know which way to go; didn’t know if his father would still be in the study or if Mali might be better to talk to but… fuck, neither of those options sounded helpful right now because they’d both require an explanation and… and Calum wasn’t sure he had the words anymore.

He couldn’t even contact Ashton’s parents to warn them of his mother’s association with the Purgatio because that would only succeed in starting a war. It might push Joy and Reg Princeps to act even sooner, and that might mean him losing Ashton for good. Even more lives would be lost if there was another Boneflats War and the sudden crushing weight Calum felt was almost enough to send him tumbling down onto the floor as the helplessness flooded through him.

He felt like a frightened little boy and he knew deep down that there was really only one place he could go to feel safe, and that was back to Ashton; back to the boy sworn to die at the Purgatio’s hand while Calum’s own mother pulled their strings.

He gravitated towards the Crown Prince's rooms automatically, brushing the blood and tears from his face with trembling fingers as he struggled to regain control of his breathing. The sun was shining brightly through the windows by now but the warmth couldn't pierce the ice spreading over Calum's aching heart.

He couldn't quite find the strength to open the door when he finally reached it, instead letting his exhausted eyes slide shut as his cheek came to rest on the smooth wood. For a while, he simply focused on calming his breathing, forcing himself to relax his hands where they'd curled tightly into fists.

He lingered out there until he heard the sound of guards approaching on their patrols, shattering the silence. Squaring his jaw, Calum gave his tear-streaked cheeks one last dry on his sleeve before he let himself quietly into the room.

A soft sigh escaped him when he saw Ashton's sleeping form hunched under the blankets. His red curls looked soft where they were strewn across the pillow, his hazel eyes fluttering open sleepily at the click of the door closing.

"Cal?" he mumbled, stretching out on the rumpled sheets as he reached towards the younger boy across the space between them. He frowned when he saw the blood welling on the Prince's cheek, his expression rippling with concern. "C'mere, curly. What's happened to you?"

Calum crawled onto the bed wearily, hanging his head to avoid the older boy's concerned gaze as he curled up against the Crown Prince's chest. He shuddered when Ashton smoothed his blond hair back gently, his reddened eyes sliding shut with exhaustion and guilt.

Calum knew he needed to tell Ashton the truth but even the idea of voicing his parents' actions aloud made him want to wither away to nothing. He was afraid confessing the entirety of the Hood family's betrayals might destroy him completely.

"I'm fine, angel," he whispered, like his heart was still beating in his chest. "Everything's fine."

There was a long moment of strained silence before the older boy pressed hesitantly closer, one arm winding comfortingly around the Prince's waist as he pressed a soft kiss to Calum's injured cheek.

It was painfully evident that something was badly wrong but Ashton didn't demand to be told the truth, even in the face of the younger boy's blatant lie. Maybe Ashton was scared of the answer… or maybe he was just losing patience.

Maybe Calum would lose _him_ soon too, the way he'd already lost almost everyone else.

Maybe it was time for Calum to stop fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I can't wait to hear what you thought so please remember to leave comments/kudos <3


	18. A Lesson Learnt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm uploading much more quickly than last time so hopefully you'll all forgive me.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter - I made myself super sad writing it and I'm even more nervous to write the rest of the story...  
> Fingers crossed you enjoy it and thanks, as always, to my lovely best friend Laura for all of her help!
> 
> Trigger warning for anxiety/panic attacks, description of injury and gun violence, mentions of non-graphic child abuse, and self-harm.

**_Your light is inside of me;_ **

**_Like a raging roar,_ **

**_Like an ocean born._ **

**_You're in my veins._ **

_\- Lionheart, Demi Lovato_

 

The day seemed to take forever to pass, each minute dragging by agonisingly until the tight ball of fear and guilt in Calum’s chest threatened to consume him. His conversations with the King and Queen that morning were still playing in his head on repeat, and he was more certain than ever that he needed to talk to someone about the worrying truth he’d discovered. He just wasn’t sure who.

In the past, the first person the Prince told would have been Michael without a second thought but things weren’t so easy anymore. His best friend hated him now and even Ashton didn’t trust him anymore. The only person Calum had left was Mali and he knew – deep down at least – that he should have gone to her immediately after escaping from Joy. Mali wouldn’t judge him or hurt him; she’d be kind instead, the way she always was when he needed her… the way she had been since the beginning. That was why he’d trusted her so completely his whole life. She’d been on his side since day one.

Not wanting to worry the Crown Prince further – especially after his tearful return to the bedroom that morning – Calum decided to wait until Ashton had gone about his business before seeking out his sister. For once, luck was smiling on the Prince. Ashton left the room well before noon, dressed in his gym gear and apparently keen to resume the rigorous training regime he’d set himself in an effort to return to full strength.

With only a week until the third task, the Crown Prince was pushing himself harder than ever and Calum was glad of that reprieve today. Whereas usually he tried to dissuade Ashton from overdoing it in an effort to achieve something which – quite frankly – might prove to be unattainable, he let the older boy leave without comment today, sure that Sierra would be enough to keep him safe. Calum didn’t want to fight with Ashton again; especially not when he already knew a storm was already brewing on the horizon that would prove earth-rending once the Crown Prince uncovered the truth Calum had kept hidden.

All he could do now was pray that Mali might know how to help him fix this.

Without her, Calum was lost.

*

Mali loved days like this, when the sky was a clear bright blue and the trees were beginning to change for autumn, their leaves shining like gemstones beneath the distant sunlight. All of her worries felt so far away when the world around her was this beautiful and she hung her head for a moment to bask in it, her eyes falling shut as the breeze stirred her hair where she was leaning against the cold stone balustrade of her balcony.

It had been an eventful morning, not least because of her father’s unexpected visit. He’d arrived at her door shortly after breakfast, dressed in the same creased clothes as the night before which was something previously unheard of. Even the guards patrolling the passage beyond Mali’s bedroom had watched the King warily as they passed and she’d felt quite uneasy as she unwillingly let him into her room, her dark eyes narrowing when he came to a stop in the open space. After a long moment of silence, he’d simply buried his head in his hands and whispered how sorry he was, and Mali’s eyes were still wide with shock now, long after he’d left.

She shook her head in disbelief as she fiddled with the bracelets on her wrist, the jewellery crafted from delicate silver and white gold. The metal felt soothing as it reacted beneath her fingertips and she comforted herself by reshaping the bracelets into one thick bangle, decorated with flowers and curly vines. She could feel the shape of each individual petal beneath the pad of her thumb when she stroked over it and Mali let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding as a little of her tension leaked away.

She still couldn’t believe David had apologised to her but she was even more shocked that Calum had been brave enough to confront their father… or perhaps it had been desperation instead that had led him to force the King into acknowledging just how dangerously foolish his plan had been. Either way, Mali supposed it didn’t matter anymore.

David had assured her today that he’d made a promise to Calum to help keep the Crown Prince safe and, as shocking as that had been, Mali knew her father meant it. He was stubborn and proud but the love she’d seen blazing in his eyes today was proof that he meant every word he’d said. It seemed that Ashton was finally safe.

The thought had barely crossed her mind when a knock sounded at the door, timid and awkward. She frowned as she left the balcony behind, fiddling with the hem of her jumper as she padded across the room with bare feet. She had no idea who was waiting on the other side although she knew for sure it wasn’t Ashley or Calum. Neither of them had ever been one to knock – they liked to let themselves in like they owned the place and Mali was perfectly happy with that – and Michael always sounded more like a bear was trying to break into her room… but that never happened nowadays; not after the fight they’d had after he learnt the truth.

Her frown deepened as she pushed the door open and she gasped when she saw Calum waiting for her on the other side, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his cheek marred with several small sore-looking cuts. Mali ushered him inside hesitantly, biting her lip as she shut the door quietly behind them. He hadn’t flopped down onto her bed or claimed the sofa the way he usually did when he came to visit her; he was lingering uneasily by the wall instead, one arm wrapped around himself, his dark eyes glassy with tears.

“Peanut?” Mali asked softly, her hands shaking a little when she reached for him, drawing him gently to her chest. He tucked his head beneath her chin and she pressed a kiss to his newly-dyed hair, her own eyes prickling with tears. He sighed heavily as he slumped in her arms and she bit her lip harder, coaxing him down gently onto the sofa nearby so that she could see him properly. “What’s wrong, Cal?”

“I… I just…” He floundered, looking utterly lost as she clasped his hands, her thumbs smoothing comfortingly over his knuckles. “I need to tell you something, Mali,” he confessed. “Something _big_ and… and it doesn’t feel fair to dump it all on you.”

“This is the second heavy conversation I’ve had today, peanut,” Mali said in as light a tone as she could manage. “I’m a big girl. I’m sure I can deal with it.”

“The second…?” Calum’s voice trailed away as he frowned at her, drying his eyes with the back of his hand. “Who else has come knocking on your door, smiley?”

“Dad,” she said, her tone becoming a little pointed when he avoided her gaze. “He came to visit me this morning, being ever so apologetic and desperate to make sure I knew he loved me.” Despite the note of derision in her voice, it was clear that she actually felt heartened because her eyes softened when she gave her brother’s hand a comforting squeeze. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that now, would you?”

“What can I say?” Calum murmured, trying for a teasing tone and failing dismally. “I told him his plan was fucking my life up and that I was literally losing my shit. He seemed more willing to listen once I gave him the gritty details.”

Mali’s eyes widened in surprise as she took in the self-deprecation saturating his expression and her frown grew as she tried to work out why exactly he still looked so tormented.

“I thought you’d be happy,” she said quietly, her tone uncertain. “Dad told me about the promise he made you… so Ashton will be _safe_ now, right? I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“He’s not safe at all,” Calum whispered as the ache in his chest gnawed deeper than ever. “Fuck, Mali, I don’t even know where to start.” The Princess pursed her lips, her dark eyes flashing to the cuts on his cheek and the way he was sitting, his legs curled up against his chest so that he could make himself as small as possible, the way he only ever did when he felt vulnerable.

“How about telling me what happened to your face?” Mali suggested with poorly-disguised concern. “Those cuts look fresh.”

“Yeah, they… they are,” Calum breathed, hanging his head as he thought guiltily of the scrapes hidden on his thighs. “Had a run-in with mum this morning after I’d spoken to dad and… well, it didn’t end very well.” He fiddled with his sleeve, twitching the material back just far enough that Mali could see the fingertip-shaped bruises marring the tanned skin of his wrist. “She was really angry.”

“What the fuck?” Mali breathed, her eyes widening in horror. “ _Mum_ did that to you?!” She was shaking as she reached for him, her trembling hands cradling his cheeks as she tilted his head back to get a better look at the damage. “I’m so sorry, peanut. You don't deserve to be hurt like that.”

Calum shrugged helplessly, his lips twitching into a crooked half-smile as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Mum’s lost it,” he whispered, his heart aching as he shifted closer to her on the sofa. “She’s fucking unhinged and, if we’re not careful, she’s going to drag all of us down with her.”

He detailed his discussion with Joy that morning carefully, his tone hesitant and wary as he watched the pain rippling across Mali’s face. His sister gasped in shock at the mention of Reg Princeps – so clearly she’d paid more attention to the comms channels than Calum had – and she looked furious when she learnt of how callously Joy had put her children’s lives at risk, just to curry favour with the leader of the Purgatio.

Mali also came to the conclusion that the Queen was having an affair with Reg Princeps which only served to rub salt in the wound inflicted by their mother’s betrayal. The look she exchanged with Calum in that moment was agonised and the Prince hated himself as he continued, aware now that telling her the truth would never be easy. It was better to just get it over and done with.

Mali’s distress was palpable when she processed the fact that Joy had been lying to them all along, manipulating the people she should have held most dear in a sickening effort to cause war and strife once more on Cerasus. The idea of their own mother actively trying to bring about the destruction of the fragile peace between Tenebris and Claritas felt unbelievable to both of them, and Calum wished he could do something to ease the torment from Mali’s eyes but he had no comfort left to offer. All of the warmth in him had drained away.

His sister’s eyes flashed with fury when he confessed that Joy had told him she was only working with the Purgatio because of him, and her disbelieving anger only grew when he explained tearfully that she even seemed to view the Cliffords’ deaths in a positive light because they’d been so progressive about Claritas and Tenebris uniting.

“I always wondered who was responsible for their assassination,” Mali said softly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip hard enough that it must have hurt. “A part of me always thought dad might have had something to do with it – after all, they were so tolerant of empaths that it must have made him furious – but… fuck. _Fuck_. We need to tell Michael. There’s no way we can keep this from him.”

Calum felt a stab of panic as he stared at his sister in appalled silence, his heart speeding up as he processed just how painfully this would cut his oldest best friend. Michael would never forgive him and there would be no going back from this. Calum would have lost him for good.

“I’m sorry,” Mali whispered, her eyes welling with tears when his face crumpled. “Let’s not talk about that right now. We have plenty of other things to focus on.” She shifted a little closer, her palm rising to cradle his overheated cheek as he sniffed weakly, trying and failing to keep his tears from falling. “Thank you for telling me, Cal,” she said softly, expression downcast as she twisted the bangle on her wrist, her fingertips sliding shakily over the flowers. “I’m so sorry mum tried to pin the blame on you for her actions.”

The silence stretched between them for what felt like a long time, broken only when Calum finally released a shaky sigh as he slumped back against the cushions, his eyes falling shut.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, feeling utterly lost. “If we tell dad, I have no idea how he’ll react but… but if we _don’t_ tell him and he finds out for himself… anything could happen.”

Mali bit her lip, obviously thinking hard as she considered her brother’s words. They both seemed to realise just how dangerously volatile their situation was but at least they’d been smart enough to have their conversation in private this time. Clearly, Michael’s warning had hit home last time when Luke had overheard their discussion.

“I think we need to count our victories,” Mali said at last, undeniably hesitant as she tucked a lock of hair shakily behind her ear. “At least dad is going to help you keep Ash safe now, peanut. At least that’s one less worry for you.” She sighed softly, her shoulders slumping as though under a great weight. “It’s just a shame ten more worries have grown in its place.”

“It feels weird having dad on our side now,” Calum admitted, his dark eyes softening fractionally. “I think he might really want things to be different this time.” He gave his sister a watery smile when she reached to cover his hand with her own, ducking his head so that the blond curls fell down across his forehead.

“I think you’re right,” Mali agreed, still looking shaken by what she’d learnt but calming a little when Calum laced their fingers together gently. “I know dad has a lot of flaws but… damnit, at least he _tries_ to keep us safe.” Her bottom lip wobbled suddenly and she turned hastily away, blinking rapidly to clear the tears from her eyes. “Not like mum,” she breathed, the bitterness painfully evident in her tone. “I can’t believe she’d _do_ this to us… can’t believe she’d be so cold-blooded. I just… I always thought she was the more reasonable of the two of them, y’know? I thought she was the one I could count on.”

“So did I, smiley,” Calum said heavily as his breath escaped him in a ragged sigh. “I guess we were both wrong.”

Looking at the distress on his sister’s face, he still wasn’t sure telling her had been the right choice but there’d been no alternative. Not _really_ anyway. He needed to be open once and for all, and their conversation might not have been a lot but at least it was a start. In time, Calum hoped maybe he’d be able to fix the rest of his relationships too; hoped he’d be able to rebuild his friends’ trust and heal the wounds he’d inflicted by lying to the people he cared about.

“I’m still glad you told me, Cal,” Mali whispered, almost like she could read her brother’s mind. “It makes sense now. I always wondered what changed within the Purgatio; how they suddenly became so… so _organised_ … so well prepared.” She shook her head slowly, giving a humourless laugh. “Mum’s always been a bit controlling, hasn’t she? I guess it makes sense that she’d want to take the Purgatio in hand too.”

“You… you don’t seem surprised about this,” Calum ventured uncertainly, too tired to overthink his words now. “I thought you’d be shocked.”

“Yeah, well…” Mali sighed heavily, pressing her lips together flatly as she gave a stiff shrug. “I always wondered if dad was truly the only one who was that driven… and I guess it’s just disappointing to be proved right. I don’t like the feeling of being ashamed of my own mother.”

They both fell quiet as the words lingered in the air between them, caustic with anger and humiliation. It was painfully clear now that Joy had been more dangerous than her husband all along because, while David had undoubtedly committed acts of terrible cruelty, it had been anger and grief driving him to such desperate measures. Joy had no such excuse and that somehow only made her more frightening, because she’d been so scarily good at hiding her true nature all this time.

Calum was jarred from his thoughts by Mali reaching towards his face slowly, her fingertips tracing the reddened skin around the cuts on his cheek. Her eyes were soft with sympathy and misery, and her free hand shook as she reached to gently cover his bruised wrist.

“She’s hurt you too many times, peanut,” Mali said quietly, resolute even despite the pain she could feel shaking her to her foundations. “That night outside the Caelum Assembly Building… the trip to Flos Bay…” Her face hardened suddenly, her nostrils flaring with anger as something that was almost a growl escaped her. “Ashley was _shot_ by the Purgatio… and Mike’s parents almost certainly died on mum’s orders… and she’s been behind it all along, hurting the three people I love most.”

“Mali,” Calum said softly, more tearful than ever. “Mali, I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I know I can’t forgive her,” the Princess said quietly, each word heavier than the last. “Mum’s a traitor, Cal. She’s committing treason by doing this; by working with terrorists and trying to disturb the peace. If the Purgatio get their way, there’ll be another Boneflats War and that would destroy _both_ nations. It nearly did last time after all.”

“Then… then you think we should tell dad?” Calum asked in a small voice as his hands fell to twist anxiously in his lap. Mali sighed, her expression twisted with unhappiness.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, shoulders slumping. “I’m not used to trusting him… and I’m not used to _not_ trusting her. This whole situation feels so messed up.” She ran her fingers through her hair anxiously, combing it just hard enough that it probably hurt. “Maybe you speaking to mum will have changed her mind,” Mali suggested helplessly. “You’ve always been her baby, Cal. Maybe if she knows how much this has hurt you, she’ll rethink everything. That’ll give us enough time to work out what to do.”

She rose abruptly, apparently unable to sit still anymore with how frenzied she felt as these new worries circled in her head.

“If mum _is_ willing to change her ways, we could always ask dad for help afterwards,” she murmured as she began to pace. “Damage control is better than having to confront her while she’s still obsessing over whatever xenophobic bullshit this Reg Princeps guy has been feeding her. They’ll probably both be willing to behave a lot more reasonably if they’re approaching the situation from the same side.”

“And what side is that?” Calum asked softly as he wrapped his fingers around his bruised wrist, pressing down lightly to feel the ache his mother had left on his skin.

“It’s _our_ side, peanut,” Mali said firmly, her dark eyes glinting. “If either of them give a damn about us, they’ll do whatever it takes to keep us in their lives, won’t they?” She shrugged dismissively, apparently fighting not to remember the way Joy had already treated them like sacrificial pawns. “I’ll try to speak to mum; see if I can find out any more about how closely she’s working with the Purgatio and whether she really _is_ having an affair with Princeps.” She shivered delicately with disgust, her metal bracelets gleaming where they’d trickled down to cover her fingertips like claws. Calum shuddered at the sight of them, his eyes flickering shut for a moment as he remembered the pain he’d felt when Joy had struck him that morning.

“We can’t rush this, Cal,” Mali continued as she attempted to wear a hole in the rug beneath her pacing feet. “If the media get hold of this, we’re ruined. Our family has never exactly been well-liked and there’s no way they’ll believe we weren’t all involved somehow, especially with how dad forced the Claritans into accepting you as a competitor for the Elevare.” She bit her lip hardest yet, drawing a bead of blood to the surface as her hands curled into fists. “There’s nothing we can do but wait and hope the opportunity arises for us to make mum change her mind,” Mali realised unhappily. “We’ll have to bide our time and be careful who we trust this information with. One wrong move and this could all come crashing down on us.”

“Everyone thinks dad is responsible,” Calum breathed as the dread reared its head inside him. “I know his plan was terrible – I _know_ that – but… but he’s changed now! He’s willing to see reason and I’m scared because… because what if someone reports him, Mali? What if dad goes to prison and he can’t keep us safe anymore? He’s the only one left who can oppose mum. We’d be helpless without him.” He blanched suddenly, his lips parting in horror as he realised just how badly wrong this could go.

“Luke already told the others about dad’s plan that night on the cliffs,” he whispered, hating the boiling tears rolling down his cheeks with a passion. “What if one of them decides it’s time to do the right thing and warn Ash’s parents that dad wanted me to kill Ash?” Calum’s breath caught in his throat and he swayed at the light-headedness he could feel, his fingernails biting into the soft skin of his wrist as his damp eyes widened in horror. “What if one of them warns _Ash_ and he… he…”

“Breathe, peanut,” Mali urged as she came to crouch in front of him, her palms settling warmly on his knees. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, yeah? I’m sure if we plan what you’re going to say first, we can help Ashton understand that you never wanted to hurt him.” A broken sob escaped Calum when she reached to cradle his cheek and he leant into it desperately, wincing as his nails dug deeper into the skin.

“It’ll all work out, peanut,” she whispered tearfully. “Things will be alright. You’ll see.”

“It won’t!” Calum wept, his face crumpling when a droplet of blood rolled down his wrist, streaking scarlet onto his hand where it was impossible to hide. “None of this is alright.”

“Cal?” she breathed, staring at the blood in confusion. “Cal, what have you done?”

The self-hatred he felt in that moment was crippling and he almost fell as he lurched to his feet, fighting his way past her when she simply remained kneeling there in horrified silence. The door opened just as Calum reached for it and Ashley stared at him in shock as he forced his way out into the passageway, a sob building in his chest.

“Calum?” Ashley asked with concern clearly saturating her words. “Cal, what’s happened?”

“Peanut, come back!” Mali called desperately but Calum was already gone, half-blind with tears as he hurtled through the shadowy passageways, with only the lakes of Effervo in mind as his destination. He needed peace and distance; needed to bury his panic and fear in freezing water, the way he’d always done when he was younger and the world became overwhelming around him.

He wanted to relax when he finally tore out into the grounds but it was no good. The panic was blazing brightly in his chest and the scratch on his bruised wrist was throbbing as he smeared the blood away with trembling fingertips, his heart in his throat.

Calum stared down at his bloodied skin in appalled silence when he finally staggered to a stop at the edge of the closest lake, shocked by what he’d done to himself. It felt almost as though he didn’t know what he was capable of anymore and he felt the nausea rising inside him like the tide as he processed just how out of control he felt these days.

He was terrified.

*

As the third task of the Elevare approached, the world around them grew colder. With barely a rustle of amber leaves, autumn had blanketed Tenebris, leaving the country bleak and colder than ever.

Michael’s mood was bleak too. Niall could _feel_ it hanging heavily in the air between them and the younger boy’s cheeks flushed when he saw the faint frown forming on the empath’s face as the pair walked quietly through the grounds, bundled up in coats and scarves beneath the cloudy sky.

“Mike,” Niall began hesitantly, his tone gentle. “Is everything okay?” He bit his lip when the younger boy held his gaze, allowing just a flicker of the pain he could feel to burn in his tired green eyes. “You’re my friend, Mike. You know you can talk to me if something’s wrong.”

“I think I should be saying that to _you_ , Niall,” Michael countered with just a hint of wryness in his tone, blatantly swerving the question. “After the broadcasts on the comms channels these past few days, you must be feeling on edge.”

Niall accepted that without comment, hanging his head for a moment as he stared down unhappily at the gravel path beneath his boots. Michael wasn’t wrong and the unwelcome reminder of the various attacks that had taken place in Tenebris recently sent his heart racing faster in his chest. The victims had all been empaths and, despite no one confirming it, Niall was sure his presence in the city of Effervo was to blame.

Despite none of the general public knowing for sure which member of the Claritan party had empathic abilities, it was common knowledge that the Tenebran King had granted passage to an empath and the Tenebrans were reacting violently in their fear. Anyone who even _might_ have possessed such abilities was being attacked and Niall’s guilt was overshadowed only by his wish to do the right thing: namely, to ensure people realised the danger empaths had to deal with on a daily basis and how important it was that this changed.

In the sudden tense silence that had fallen, Michael sighed quietly, allowing his elbow to nudge gently into Niall’s side.

“Sorry,” the younger boy mumbled, his pale cheeks flushed red, both with the cold and his embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Niall. I don’t know why I brought that up.” He pulled a face suddenly, scowling at himself. “Yes, I do,” he corrected, his tone twisting with bitterness. “I was being defensive.”

“I kind of guessed,” Niall pointed out weakly, a wry smile touching his lips. “You wanna talk about it, friend?”

Michael shrugged, the discomfort clear on his face.

“There’s only five days ‘til the next task,” he said quietly, aiming for a conversational tone and failing dismally. “I’m… I’m just worried about it. That’s all.” He flushed, looking away as he scratched the back of his neck absently. “We don’t need to talk about this now, Niall. I’m sure you want to get back to Luke so –”

“Hey, stop that,” Niall chided gently, his blue eyes warm. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to talk to you, Mike… so fire away, yeah? Maybe it’ll even help.”

“I just…” Michael faltered, biting his lip as they wandered in silence for a few moments, passing close to the hedgerow growing up against the fence encircling the grounds. “I’m scared Cal or Ash are going to get hurt. The first two challenges were so dangerous and I’m sure it’s only going to get worse from this point on… and there were no healers present last time!” he said helplessly, his green eyes wide with anxiety. “If something happened to Cal – to _either_ of them – I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You’re allowed to feel scared, Mike,” Niall said quietly, hesitating for a moment before he took a deep breath and continued. “You’re allowed to care too,” he added, his words softer still. “Even after everything that’s happened.”

“I think I always will do,” Michael said miserably, his shoulders slumping as they ambled along towards the closest of the lakes. “No matter what I might have said, Cal and Mali _are_ my family... and it sort of feels like Ashton might be too, the same way the rest of you are. I don’t want anyone getting hurt again.”

“I feel that way too,” Niall admitted quietly, his face paling even as their shoulders brushed together comfortingly. “And I’ll be there during the third task to help them, okay? I promise.” He hesitated, a weak smile touching his lips as he continued. “Y’know, I think – up to a certain point at least – there’s not a huge amount we can realistically do. So long as we’re there for each other… well, we just have to hope that Fate will be kind to us… that all of those broken parts will fall into place.”

Michael softened as he watched the older man, his curiosity and sadness mingling together into something tangible on the breeze. Niall let out a heavy sigh as he finally came to a stop at the water’s edge, just gazing out over the vast rippling surface as the combined weight of their emotions weighed him down.

For a long moment of silence, all he could think of were the empaths who’d been attacked simply for existing; of Luke with the concern and pain rippling across his beautiful face after he’d found Niall bleeding in the palatial estate gardens back in Claritas; of the dawning realisation on King David’s face as he considered hiring empaths as part of his security, all because Niall had used his abilities to save the Queen from being assassinated.

It seemed that Niall’s life would never be simple but even that was easier to accept now that he finally had friends to share the load with. By comparison, Michael must have felt terrible as the devastating weight of his worries pressed down on him. He was more alone than he’d ever been, without even his honorary siblings for company. If it wasn’t for the Hemmings siblings and Niall – and perhaps Ashton and Sierra too – Michael would have had no one left at all.

“I miss Calum,” he whispered, his confession almost too soft to hear as he echoed the empath’s thoughts. Niall gave him a watery smile, reaching to squeeze Michael’s cold hand briefly in the morning light.

“I know you do, Mike,” he said softly, wishing there was more he could do to help. “Calum misses you too. I feel it all the time.”

Michael’s eyes were wet with tears as he held the older man’s gaze, his expression almost pitying in that moment.

“It must get exhausting having to feel everyone else’s pain all the time,” he said, his tone strained. “And yet… you take it all without complaining.” He shook his head in disbelief, his gaze appraising as he buried his hands in the pockets of his coat. “I was right that day in Aureum, wasn’t I? You really _are_ the nicest guy in existence, Niall.” He smiled faintly, his sadness undeniable in the cold air. “I bet if we gave people even a minute alone in a room with you – no matter _how_ narrow-minded they were – they’d change their minds about empaths. There’s no way they _couldn’t_.”

He spoke so earnestly that Niall couldn’t have suppressed his smile if he’d tried. It spread across his face slowly, his blue eyes twinkling when Michael shot him a crooked smile, and everything was good right up until the bullet slammed into Niall’s chest. He staggered a few paces, steadying himself on Michael’s outstretched arm as the lake water washed cold over his shoes. Niall’s ears were ringing, his heart racing unevenly in his chest as his legs trembled beneath him, his fingers biting into the younger boy’s arm in his struggle to remain upright.

“Niall?” Michael gasped, his voice tight with panic as he stared at his friend in horror. “Niall, what do I do?”

The grounds were silent as the water lapped at the stony shore, gleaming dully beneath the distant sunlight.

“Oh,” Niall whispered, horrified at the sight of the blood already soaking the front of his shirt. “Oh no.”

He dropped like a stone, his legs folding beneath him as he crashed down onto the ground. Michael threw himself after him, his emerald eyes bright with tears when he saw the panic flooding Niall’s ashen face, looking paler than ever beneath his shock of dark hair. Both of them were shaking terribly and Niall let out a horrible choking sound as he finally felt the full force of the gunshot. It was a strange kind of pain; _hot_ almost, in a way he’d never experienced before. It felt more like getting hit with a bat than a bullet and his hand twitched towards the wound unconsciously, his eyes fluttering at the searing agony of the lump of metal burning brightly inside him.

In sharp contrast, the rest of Niall felt cold. The shivers running through his limp form were weaker than ever, his cheeks streaked with boiling tears he didn’t remember falling as the pain heightened, feeling more akin to a knife twisting inside him than the pain he’d been led to expect after healing such wounds on the Boneflats.

“Hey, hey, keep looking at me,” Michael murmured desperately, his eyelashes spiky with tears as he threw his hand into the air, sending out a flurry of reddish-violet sparks like a distress call. They would be easily spotted from the citadel and the brief flicker of relief Michael felt when the distant guards voiced their surprise was buried quickly under his terror and anguish.

“Mikey?” Niall mumbled, his face crumpling when Michael began to put pressure on the gunshot wound, making the pain even more excruciating. Niall writhed weakly in the dirt beneath the younger boy’s trembling palms, choking up blood as the tears rolled silently down his cheeks. Michael flinched when he felt the pain rocketing through Niall, clearly radiating out of the empath in his distress, but he gritted his teeth against the borrowed agony and fought through it, keeping his hands as steady as he could, determined not to lose someone else he cared about to mindless violence.

“I’m here, Ni,” the younger boy croaked, his eyes glassy with tears and panic. “Just hold on.”

The guards were approaching now, the gravel crunching beneath their feet as they raced towards the shoreline where Michael was slumped over Niall’s limp form, trying to keep him from bleeding out. It didn’t even cross the younger boy’s mind that the shooter might still be hiding behind the fences or hedgerows somewhere; he was far too concerned with the vast quantity of blood spreading out beneath his friend’s body even despite his best efforts and the overpowering relief he could feel that the distress call had worked, at least until he glanced back and saw that Niall’s eyes had slipped shut.

“Oi,” Michael said sharply, a note of pleading entering his voice when the older man struggled to focus blearily on his face. “C’mon, Horan, keep those pretty eyes open for me.”

Niall tried to smile, his lips twitching up weakly to show the blood speckling his teeth.

“Sorry,” he murmured, the words little more than a breath as they escaped him. “Mikey… please… please tell Luke… tell him I love him...”

“You’re going to tell him yourself,” Michael said firmly, his voice thick with tears as he kept his trembling hands pressed firmly over the gunshot, trying in vain to stem the flow of blood even as it spurted out over them both. “You just need to hold on, okay? Just hold on.” He was crying now, his shoulders shaking as he tried to keep the sobs from tearing him apart. “Don’t let go, Ni. We love you. _Luke_ loves you. You have to hold on.”

The smile on Niall’s greyish face was softer now, the light in his glazed eyes faint as the sky seemed to darken overhead. The approaching guards seemed far away now, Michael’s hands worryingly slippery with lifeblood as the lake water lapped at Niall’s ruined clothes.

“Lukey,” he breathed as the fight inside him burnt away, leaving him empty and cold without it, no matter how desperately Michael had tried to keep him burning.

When the darkness claimed Niall, it felt like peace.

*

The quarters Luke had been staying in since his arrival to Tenebris were already more than a little untidy. He’d never been very adept at remembering to put his clothes away and Laura made sure he caught her scowling at the mess a few times as they sat cross-legged on his bed, close enough that their knees were brushing.

One of their favourite childhood films was playing on the comms screen mounted in the wall - something which they had quickly discovered was an excellent cure for homesickness - and the familiar scent of nail varnish lingered in the air as Luke admired the polish his sister had applied to his nails.

“Happy with them?” Laura enquired, tucking a lock of hair awkwardly behind her ear as she tried not to smudge her own shiny blue varnish. Luke shot her a sheepish smile before he pursed his lips, scrutinising his nails carefully.

“It’s very neat,” he began hesitantly. “I’m just not convinced they aren’t a bit… well, _much_.”

“Not at all, lofty,” Laura said, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Rainbow-coloured nails are totally subtle, right? I’m sure people won’t even notice them, glitter or not.”

Luke snorted, seriously considering hitting her with a pillow before he decided he would be a mature adult instead.

“You’re just jealous of my beautiful cuticles,” he lied in an airy tone. “But it’s okay, tiny. In time, you’ll come to accept that my hands are far superior to everyone else’s.”

“Maybe you wish you had my battle scars instead,” she teased, wiggling her fingers at him painfully when he grimaced, cheeks heating in embarrassment. He ducked his head and she rolled her eyes fondly, giving him a reprimanding poke in the nose (and nail varnish be damned). “You better not be beating yourself up for that jibe, lofty. If we can’t joke about my horrifying monster hands, what have we got left?”

“Idiot,” Luke said softly, his cheeks still pink, his blue eyes growing softer by the moment. “Don’t let Mike hear you insulting yourself like that. He’ll be along to sort you out in no time.”

“Sort me out?” she repeated, her lips curving into a smirk when he buried his head in his hands, laughing unwillingly.

“Ew, tiny, stop it!” Luke groaned, struggling to hide his grin. “Don’t imply things like that!”

“Sex is a perfectly normal part of life, lofty,” Laura said pointedly, her blue eyes glittering when he rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I thought you’d know _all_ about that by now.” She huffed out a laugh suddenly, her expression turning bashful. “Unless Niall has more restraint than Mike,” she admitted, making them both laugh and blush in equal measure. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

A sudden banging on the door interrupted them and Laura raised an eyebrow at the five rapid knocks against the aged wood. There was a certain rhythm to them that only Michael used when he came visiting and she frowned at his unexpected arrival, even as Luke’s smirk grew more pronounced.

“Speak of the devil,” he said wryly, his caramel-coloured curls messy as they tumbled down across his forehead. “Guess he just couldn’t wait, tiny.”

“Oh, shut up,” Laura said with as much dignity as she could muster, rolling her eyes as she pushed herself off the mattress and crossed the room, pointedly side-stepping a pile of laundry on her way. The door swung open with a soft creak when she pushed it aside but the smile slipped from her face like water when she saw the state Michael had got himself into since he’d left her that morning for his walk with Niall.

“Sparky?” she breathed, her eyes widening in horror as he gazed at her helplessly. "Sparky, fuck, what's _happened_ to you?!"

He was covered from head to toe in blood as he stood there swaying in the doorway. It was plastered on his clothes, caked on his hands, streaked over the ashen skin of his face, and even drying sticky in his hair, leaving the usually-sandy locks stuck to his skull in crimson clumps.

He looked like he'd been through an unimaginable attack and Laura felt sick as he staggered over the threshold, trembling too badly to remain upright anymore. He would have fallen if Luke hadn't appeared in time to take hold of him, his hands curling gently but firmly around the older boy's biceps as Michael gazed up at him with a tortured expression on his bloodied face.

"I'm sorry," he croaked, his emerald eyes welling with tears as he gazed between the two siblings desperately. "I came as quickly as I could. I swear I did."

“Come and sit on the bed, sparky,” Laura said shakily, her arm sliding securely around his waist as Luke exchanged a wide-eyed look with her. “Where are you hurt?” When Michael seemed content to simply gaze fearfully at her through exhausted eyes, Laura’s heart began to clench painfully in her chest. “C’mon, sweetheart, this is important. If I don’t know where you’re hurt, I can’t heal you.”

Michael buried his face in his blood-streaked hands as he inhaled shakily, searching for strength he didn’t seem to possess any longer.

“I’m fine,” he whispered as the tears burnt like acid down his cheeks. “I’m not hurt. This isn’t my blood.”

“Wait, _what_?” Luke asked weakly, his pale face draining of any remaining colour as his hands began to tremble. “Mikey, whose blood is that?”

A cold breeze stirred the room when the younger Hemmings sibling rose shakily to his feet, his fingers twisting through his curls in horrified expectation of what the older boy was about to say.

“Luke,” Michael began slowly, his voice hesitant at best as the tears dried sticky on his dirty face. “What you need to remember is… Niall’s safe now, okay? He’s _safe_ but… but during our walk earlier, he got hurt. Badly hurt. Someone… someone shot him, Luke. I’m so sorry.”

A gasp escaped Luke like all of the air had been punched out of him and Laura’s scarred hand rose to cover her mouth as she gazed between the pair of them in shock, her eyes welling up at the pain on their faces.

“Niall’s in the medical bay now,” Michael said faintly, closing his eyes for a moment as another wave of fatigue crashed over him. “He’s gonna be in surgery for a while yet I think. I… I stayed with him ‘til they kicked me out and then I came up here. I didn’t want to tell you without having some good news and… well, I’ve got some. The healer said the bullet went all the way through which... which is apparently a good thing… and the guards got to us quickly enough that he didn’t lose _too_ much blood.” He shrugged helplessly, raking his fingers through his hair as a shudder ran through him. “The healers seemed to think he’d pull through. I just...” He wavered suddenly, knuckling his tears away with shaking fists as he stared down blankly at the carpet. “I don’t think I did enough.”

“Please don’t think that,” Luke said weakly, taking a deep breath as he struggled to remain calm, even despite the tears trickling continuously down his cheeks. “You kept him _alive_ , Mikey. He wouldn’t have stood a chance without you.”

Luke drew him up into a tight hug and Michael clung to him, tucking his face away under the younger boy’s chin as Laura held her brother’s gaze tearfully. The quiet seemed to stretch for a long time before the older boy’s voice could be heard, his tone soft and sad as his hands twisted in the back of Luke’s t-shirt.

“Niall said he loved you, buttercup,” Michael told him as his cheek came to rest on the younger boy’s chest. He was watching Laura numbly, his eyes glassy, his lashes spiky with tears. “He asked me to tell you. It was the last thing he said before he went to sleep.”

Luke was crying harder now, his curls tousled by a cold wind which continued to grow with his anguish, at least until Laura found the strength to stand and drew them both into her arms. The hug was awkward and clumsy, with too many limbs and tears and trembling hands, but it seemed to have the desired effect. Luke’s shaking slowed and Michael’s tears dried on his face. Laura swallowed past the lump in her throat.

“Who was it, Mikey?” Luke asked in a strained voice, his bottom lip bloodless with how hard he was biting it. “Who hurt Niall?”

“I don’t know,” Michael admitted glumly as he leant against Laura, letting his head fall to rest on her shoulder. “Someone who hates empaths maybe…” He shivered suddenly, his eyes widening as something horrible occurred to him. “Or someone who doesn’t want healers present during the third task.”

“Oh fuck,” Luke breathed, his expression saturated with horror as he gazed at Laura fearfully. “Tiny, with the exception of our friends, does anyone else here know you have healing magic?”

“I… I don’t _think_ so,” she said hesitantly, confused by this line of questioning. “I mean… if they’ve seen the Boneflats broadcast where Ash lost control then… then maybe I guess.” She shivered as the hairs on the back of her neck rose. “Why?” she asked nervously, her heart racing in her chest. “You think someone will try to hurt me too?”

“I don’t know,” Luke said grimly as his eyes burnt brightly with tears once more. “I just… I don’t think we should let our guards down. Not ‘til we’re back in Claritas.”

“I wish you’d never had to come here,” Michael whispered, his face crumpling at the blood drying on his skin. “I’m so sorry all of this is happening.”

He swayed suddenly, his ashen face paling further as the exhaustion finally caught up with him. Laura tightened her hold on him, keeping him anchored safely to her side with an arm wrapped around his waist as she fixed Luke with a miserable look.

“Mikey needs to get cleaned up,” she said softly, fighting to keep her voice steady as she thought once more of what had happened to poor Niall. “Do you want to come back to Mike’s room too, lofty?” she asked, already quite certain of the answer. He shook his head predictably, his lips turned down unhappily at the corners as he gave Michael’s shoulder a brief squeeze.

“No, I’m going to go and wait by the medical bay,” Luke said before his expression rippled; became less deliberate calm and more vulnerable instead. “Actually, I… I think I might call mum and dad,” he decided, his eyes prickling with tears once more as he inhaled raggedly. “I… I’m not –”

“That sounds like a smart idea, Luke,” Laura said quickly, her eyes softening at the helplessness on his face. “That might help you process things a little, yeah? And it’ll be closer to the time Niall wakes up too. I think talking to them would be good for you.” She reached to stroke his cheek for a moment, lingering there when he leant into her palm. “We’ll only be round the corner if you need us, yeah? Come over whenever you need.”

“Thank you,” Luke whispered, closing his damp eyes for a moment as a heavy sigh escaped him. “Go take care of Mikey, tiny, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you, lofty,” Laura said reprovingly, her eyes soft with love and sadness. “You’re my baby brother.”

She left then, before she could break down in tears, and Michael leant against her heavily as they made their slow way down the passage towards his quarters. It was dark inside, the curtains still drawn from when they’d rolled out of bed together that morning, the sheets even more rumpled and messy than Laura remembered.

“Go and shower, sparky, yeah?” she suggested gently. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”

“Okay,” he breathed, his complexion tinged with grey in the shadowy light as he began to unbutton his coat, sending flakes of blood drifting down onto the floor. His face crumpled at the sight of them and he squared his jaw as he stumbled into the bathroom, pushing the door shut behind him shakily.

Laura watched him go with damp eyes, her heart aching as she stood there alone in his room, her arms wrapped around herself as the shadows pressed in. The anxiety had been bubbling under the surface ever since Michael had appeared at Luke’s door and she felt breathless with it now, her eyes stinging with tears as she forced herself to keep taking deep breaths.

Michael needed her to look after him. There was no time for her to lose control now, no matter how much the news of her mentor’s injury upset her.

She busied herself by tidying up, straightening the sheets and the duvet, and opening the curtains to let some light into the room. She’d always admired the view of the lakes before but, as her eyes adjusted this time, her heart rose into her throat. She could see the spot where Niall must have been shot because the area was swarming with guards now, each of them armed to the teeth as they inspected the fences and hedgerows, clearly trying to work out where a sniper could have hidden so that this could be avoided in future.

She hated the fact that Michael would always be reminded of this when he stood at his window now; hated the fact that even the simple act of opening his curtains might send him over the edge. Unlike her and many others from their friendship group – fractured as it was these days – Michael had never been to the Boneflats and, with the exception of that night outside the Caelum Assembly Building, she was sure he had never seen someone so badly hurt before, let alone bleeding to death from a gunshot wound.

No one ever forgot the first time they experienced something like that and Laura closed her eyes despairingly, her scarred hands curling around the windowsill as she drew in a shaky breath. Hers had been a girl a year or so older than Laura during her very first day as a healer on the Boneflats. The girl had been caught up in an explosion, her injuries caused by the shrapnel as well as the blast, the damage devastating. Laura still saw the girl’s ruined face sometimes when she let her defences down; still remembered the girl’s cries in the moments before she died… still wondered what the girl’s name was and whether she’d had any family to leave behind.

Laura was jarred back to the present by a noise emanating from the bathroom; a low muffled sound that was almost inaudible beneath the pound of the hot water, although it seemed to hint at distress. She bit her lip as she swiftly crossed the room, her nerves on edge as she knocked timidly on the door. She was greeted only with silence and her heart sank in her chest.

“Mikey?” she called gently, doing her best to hide her anxiety. “Mikey, are you okay in there, sweetheart?”

A weak sob sounded and Laura let herself in without waiting any longer, her heart breaking at the sight that met her as she stepped into the steamy room. Michael was sitting crumpled in the corner of the cubicle, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as the spray pounded down around him, masking his tears. The majority of the blood was running rust-red down the drain but some of it stubbornly remained, clinging to the hollow of his throat and the underside of his jaw.

Laura joined him under the spray uncaringly, kneeling down beside Michael and cradling his face gently between her palms as he gazed at her helplessly. She stroked his cheekbones gently with her thumbs, his emerald eyes swollen from crying as his shoulders shook with sobs. It only made Laura want to cuddle him closer and she didn’t hesitate as she drew him into her arms, her palm smoothing comfortingly over his bare back as the water soaked her clothes.

He was shivering beside her, his pale face even greyer than she’d realised now that the blood was gone. He looked small with the way his sandy hair was plastered to his skull as he clung to her and she wished so badly that there was a way to make him feel better but… there wasn’t. Only time would help Michael now; time and understanding, and as much love as she could give him.

“I’m not leaving you,” she whispered, her heart breaking at his soft sob of relief as he slumped against her. “You’re not losing me, sparky. I promise.”

All Laura had left were words now and she could only pray that they’d be enough to keep Michael from falling apart.

She had nothing left to give.

*

It was evening when Niall opened his eyes.

His whole body hurt and the exhaustion weighed him down like concrete as he lay there on the hospital bed, his arms limp on top of the blankets, his eyelids almost too heavy to lift. There was a sharp insistent ache in his chest that only seemed to worsen with every moment he was awake. The pain of it was distracting as it seeped into his shoulder and neck, and he groaned softly when he made the mistake of trying to move.

“You’d be wise to stay still,” an unfamiliar voice said from nearby, their tone warm enough that Niall managed not to flinch in surprise. “I imagine that’s smarting a little, Mr Horan.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he admitted, his jaw tight with how badly it was hurting. He let out a sigh of relief when the healer stepped into his field of vision, brandishing some painkilling medication which she carefully loaded into a syringe. He bit his lip at the bite of the needle but settled quickly once she’d left him in peace after completing her observations.

It was dark through the nearby window, the first stars beginning to flicker to life as Niall lay there with his cheek resting on the pillow, his face pale with exhaustion and pain. The front of his hospital gown was bulky thanks to the bandages covering the wound on his chest and he sighed quietly, the sound almost lost beneath the familiar beeping sound of the heart monitor.

The last thing he could remember was Michael’s frightened face above his own, the younger boy’s skin splattered with Niall’s blood, his tearful: “ _We love you. **Luke** loves you._” that had carried Niall into sleep.

It was quiet in the medical bay; Niall was the only patient and there didn’t seem to be any other healers present either. He watched the woman who had saved his life curiously as she studied some charts at a desk in the corner of the room, his eyes softening when he saw how exhausted she looked as she nursed a mug of coffee in the lamplight.

The door to the medical bay opened unexpectedly and the woman looked up in surprise, rising quickly when she saw who was present.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” she said, forcing a smile onto her tired face as she greeted the King. “How can I help you?”

“I was just passing and decided to check on our patient, Hailee,” David said, his tone saturated with more concern than Niall would have expected, especially considering the pair had only met once the day before. “Is he well enough for visitors?”

“I should think so, Your Majesty,” Hailee replied, lips twitching when she glanced towards Niall where he was watching the pair of them owlishly. “What do you say, Mr Horan? Feeling up to it?”

“Sure,” he said breathlessly, grimacing with pain when he shifted in a failed attempt to get comfortable. “I’m only sorry I won’t be better company, Your Majesty.”

“Not at all,” David reassured him with a faint smile as he crossed the room, sinking down into the chair beside Niall’s bed. “How are you feeling, Horan?”

“Um…” He hesitated, trying to decide how polite to be before he figured his situation couldn’t get a great deal worse than it already was. “Like I got shot,” he said, lips twitching. “But feeling pain is better than feeling nothing at all so I figure I’ll be alright.”

“What an unexpectedly positive outlook,” David murmured, one eyebrow rising. His surprise was palpable and Niall let his eyes slide shut once more, relaxing fully as the painkillers finally took effect. “I did stop by to visit you earlier actually,” the King continued, his words startling the empath enough that he looked up at the older man in shock. “However, on that occasion, the Hemmings boy was watching over you while you slept. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Luke was here?” Niall whispered, his throat thickening as he remembered the terrible grief he’d experienced that morning when he’d truly believed that he’d never get to hold his boyfriend again.

“Of course,” David said softly as he leant closer through the approaching darkness. “From what I understood, he didn’t want to leave your side. His sister had to come and retrieve him around dinner time. He waited all day for you to wake up after your surgery.”

“Oh,” Niall murmured, his blue eyes shining with tears. “Thank you for telling me.”

“That’s quite alright,” David said evenly, seemingly becoming very interested in admiring his black leather gloves which gave Niall the opportunity to dry his eyes with the edge of the blanket. After a long pause, David let out a quiet breath. “There’s a reason I stopped by today, Horan. After our conversation yesterday, I’d been meaning to talk to you anyway but… well… this helped me put a few things in perspective.”

“By ‘this’, do you mean me getting shot?” Niall asked softly, his tone as flat as he could make it. His hands curled into fists as he fought not to remember but it was no good; the blood and the lake, and Michael’s grief-stricken terror still flickered before his eyes like a comms broadcast.

David let out a heavier sigh, his shoulders slumping as he laced his fingers together on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Horan,” he said softly, his voice the gentlest Niall had ever heard it. “And I’m sorry for the suffering you’ve been subjected to since your arrival in Tenebris. I can see now – without a doubt in my mind – that attitudes towards empaths need to change drastically, the sooner the better.” He pressed his lips together flatly, his guilt bitter on the air as Niall shied away from it, shocked by how strong the King’s emotions were.

“I’m no fool, Horan,” David said heavily, his lips twisting into a humourless smile as he stared down blankly at the mint-coloured blanket. “I’m well aware that the animosity towards empaths is borne of my own past prejudices.”

“Well, if the people see that their King’s attitude has changed, perhaps theirs will follow, Your Majesty,” Niall said riskily, too tired to sugar his words tonight. “If your bias was what caused this in the first place.”

David winced good-naturedly, apparently too tired to exchange barbs tonight.

“You make a fair point,” he said slowly, wearily. “You can consider this a lesson learnt.”

When Niall seemed satisfied to simply watch him curiously, David managed a weak rueful smile.

“I’m glad I was persuaded to welcome you into the citadel, Horan, and not just because you saved my wife’s life,” he said honestly. “This is an opportunity to change Cerasus for the better… and to improve things closer to home too, I think.” At the younger man’s confusion, David shrugged, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip in an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty. “Accepting my son’s friends seems a good way of rebuilding bridges,” he explained, apparently unbothered by how open he was being since he knew the empath could sense his emotions regardless of whether he chose to share them.

“You want to rebuild bridges?” Niall asked softly, his tone a touch warmer although he was a little puzzled. “Do you mean with Calum?”

“In this instance, no,” David replied, smiling wryly. “I know how important this cause is to Michael. I’ve been following his promotion of rights for empaths on his comm for weeks now and… well, he’s right. I can see that now… and I think it would make him happy.” He looked saddened suddenly, his lips pressed together as he shook his head slowly. “There’s been precious little happiness in Michael’s life up until now and I’m sure much of that is my fault… but I won’t fail in my duties as his guardian any longer. I’d like to be a father to him if I can.”

“Mike will appreciate that,” Niall said quietly, trying to hide just how stunned he was by this new side of David he’d never been privy to. Before tonight, he’d only ever seen the King being intimidating and cruel but – while he was undoubtedly still a very dangerous individual – there was a softness about him now that had never been obvious before; a vulnerability that Niall felt very lucky to witness.

Tonight, David shone in a different light entirely.

“Thank you, Horan,” the King said quietly, his dark eyes soft. “You’ve opened my eyes.”

“Thank you for letting me,” Niall countered, his words breathless and faint as his chest ached dully under the bandages. His brow creased with weariness at the pain he could feel and David levelled a warm look at him, his expression knowing.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” he said although his lips twitched inexplicably as he glanced back towards the doorway of the medical bay. “Although it looks as though you may not get to sleep _quite_ yet.”

“Your Majesty?” Niall asked uncertainly, a frown on his face. David smiled.

“It appears you have one more visitor tonight, Horan,” he said and, with that, he departed, looking more thoughtful than ever. Niall watched him go curiously but his expression cleared the moment Luke appeared in the doorway, his pale face exhausted, his caramel curls limp enough that he must have been raking his fingers through them all day in his stress.

“Lukey?” he breathed, his eyes prickling with tears as he struggled to push himself upright on the pillows, only to blanch with pain.

“Ni!” Luke gasped, almost tripping over himself in an effort to reach his boyfriend without waiting a second longer. Hailee slipped out of the room behind him with a soft look on her face, shutting the door with a gentle click as Luke sank down into the chair beside his boyfriend’s bed, hands trembling. “Oh, Ni, I’m sorry you woke up without me here. I was so, _so_ worried about you.”

Niall wanted to apologise for the stress he’d caused but no sound came out when he opened his mouth because a lump had risen in his throat instead. He swallowed past it in vain, his eyes already prickling with tears that began to roll down his cheeks the moment Luke gently stroked his dark hair away from his forehead.

“My poor Ni,” Luke murmured tenderly, the love he could feel shining so brightly that it blinded Niall for a moment; only made him want to cry harder. Luke shifted the chair as close to the bed as possible, taking care not to aggravate his boyfriend’s injuries as he leant to press a soft kiss to the older man’s cheek.

“Lukey,” Niall breathed, his voice choked by the sobs building in his chest. “I… I wanted to tell you –”

“Mike told me, love,” Luke reassured him, his thumb smoothing comfortingly over the older man’s cheekbone. Niall closed his eyes as a wave of fatigue crashed over him, his face crumpling at the ache of the bruising spreading across his chest and shoulder. The younger boy pressed an even softer kiss to his lips, lingering there until Niall’s tear-wet eyes fluttered open to focus sleepily on his face.

“I love you, sunshine,” Luke whispered, his tone soft, his gaze sparkling like he was telling a secret. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“I love you too, darling,” Niall admitted, letting out a quiet sigh as he finally relaxed against the sheets. “I _love_ you.”

The soft kisses Luke peppered against his jaw calmed him further and Niall felt the last of his anxiety melt away when the younger boy gently tangled their fingers together, his colourful nails catching the light as the older man’s lips twitched into a faint smile.

”That's pretty nail varnish, darling,” he mumbled, his expression undeniably fond. Luke smiled at him, his pretty blue eyes crinkling as he brushed his messy curls back sheepishly.

“Thanks,” he said in as light-hearted a tone as he could manage. “Laura did them for me this morning. I was going for a subtle, understated look.”

Niall let out a tearful giggle in response and, after a moment, Luke joined him, both of them clinging to each other as they blinked the dampness from their eyes. Luke pressed a firm kiss to his forehead and Niall hummed contentedly, basking in the comforting feeling of safety and love that radiated from his boyfriend whenever they were alone together.

“I'm glad you're okay, sunshine,” Luke whispered as he snuggled closer, resting his head lightly on the older man’s uninjured shoulder. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”

Niall smiled for the first time since he’d woken up.

“Hopefully we never have to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I can't wait to hear what you thought <3  
> The next few chapters are going to be a bit of a rollercoaster so good luck in advance...


	19. Dead End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! I'm sorry for the wait but this one was so angsty that I had to keep taking breaks so that I didn't dehydrate myself by crying too much writing it :P  
> Thanks as always to Laura for the support and feedback - it means the world!  
> Hopefully you'll enjoy this (if that's possible with this chapter... quite honestly, I'm not sure.)
> 
> Trigger warning for anxiety attacks, graphic description of injuries and attacks, reference to non-graphic self-harm… basically angst, angst, and more angst.

**_Lately we've been living in different nations._ **

**_Enemy lines are drawn, lines are drawn._ **

**_We're speaking different tongues, communicating_ **

**_Right through the bedroom wall, bedroom wall_ **

**_And as we fall, time is frozen._ **

**_I know we break but we're not broken._ **

_\- More, 5 Seconds of Summer_

 

It was the night before the third challenge when Laura’s curiosity finally overwhelmed her. Ever since that terrifying night at Flos Bay, she’d been desperate to understand where Luke’s wariness of Calum had sprung from. Her brother’s accusations had been harsh and incredibly out of character, and it was Luke’s atypical behaviour that made her certain there was at least an element of truth in his allegations.

He’d barely left Niall’s side over the past few days, spending most of his time hunched in the chair beside the empath’s bed as the healer Hailee worked her magic on him. Laura had tried to give the pair of them space – had tried to be supportive and loving without being suffocating – but her frustration burnt too brightly to ignore anymore and she _needed_ to find out the truth for herself.

She couldn’t believe that David had truly tasked Calum with killing the Crown Prince before the Elevare was over but… but what if that _was_ the case? What if Calum’s obvious love for Ashton was fabricated and Laura had been a terrible best friend by concealing the truth from him? She’d convinced herself that she’d kept quiet because she didn’t want to upset Ashton – because she was sure the allegation against Calum had been a product of Luke’s extreme stress and the blatant water magic used during the attack – but she was no longer convinced.

She’d seen the wary looks Calum shot Ashton whenever the older boy was distracted; had seen the guilt in Calum’s face when Sierra glared at him or Michael frantically tried to avoid his gaze. So many tiny details – insignificant alone, but damning together – had been building up since the night when Ashton had almost drowned and Laura couldn’t ignore them anymore.

Something was clearly wrong and Laura was determined to get to the bottom of it, no matter the cost.

She cornered Luke as he sloped out of the medical bay, his exhausted face painted silver in the moonlight filtering in through the windows. Niall was still sleeping in his hospital bed where he would likely stay for the next week or two and Laura was certain there wouldn’t be a better occasion than this. She stepped out of the shadows, her hand curling loosely around Luke’s wrist, and felt a pang of guilt when he cried out in shock, jerking his arm from her grip.

“Sorry, sorry!” she said frantically, cheeks flaming. “I just need to talk to you and you’ve been proving very difficult to pin down.” He opened his mouth to apologise and she hurriedly spoke over him, her face softening. “I know Niall needs you, lofty. I _know_ that and I know how important he is to you… but this is important too, okay? Maybe more important than we realise.”

“Okay…” Luke bit his lip uncertainly as he watched her, the confusion and apprehension clear on his face. “What’s wrong, tiny? Has something happened?”

“Not exactly,” she said warily. “But I need to ask you about that night at Flos Bay, Luke… about the things you accused Calum of.” She shook her head slowly, the tiredness suddenly bone-deep. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said you overheard; about David wanting Ashton dead… and then Mali agreed with you. At the time I thought it was just to get you to be quiet; to save time so that we could help Calum and Ash… but I’m not so sure that’s the case anymore.”

Luke had gone very quiet now, his jaw squared, his hurt blue eyes glistening damply in the silver light.

“None of you believed me,” he whispered, clearly pained by this. “Only Niall trusted me. All I wanted to do was keep Ashton safe but –”

“I’m sorry, Luke, okay?” Laura cut in, her expression grave as a hint of desperation coloured her words. “I’m sorry I doubted you… but I’m listening now. I’ve had time to think about it and I know you wouldn’t lie about something so important; especially not Ashton’s life.”

“Alright,” Luke whispered, his voice softer still as the pair fell into step together wordlessly. The guards had already passed on their patrol of this wing of the citadel so it would be a few minutes before more appeared, meaning that it was probably safer to have this discussion here than in their rooms, where perhaps there would be more surveillance. “Once we got back to the estate after Ashton was attacked, I spoke to Calum,” Luke began softly, his tone uneasy as he wrapped his arms around himself, clearly uncomfortable. “He told me that he came to Claritas with the worst intentions; that his dad had sent him because he wanted Ashton _dead_.” Luke shuddered, his voice wobbling as he watched his sister imploringly, apparently uncertain of how she would react. “Calum said I was right to be worried... that the things I’d said on the cliffs were true, even if the rest of you didn't believe me.”

Laura’s heart sank at the wounded expression on his face but she didn’t interrupt him again. She was finally learning the truth and Ashton’s life was much more important than Luke having to wait a few minutes longer for the apology he was so badly owed.

“Reading between the lines, I think Calum was sent to Claritas to kill Ashton,” Luke said softly, his shoulders slumping. “It's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would the rules of who competes in the Elevare change so much? Everyone _knows_ David requested those alterations to the rules. It makes you wonder what else he was the cause of, doesn't it?”

They watched each other in silence for what felt like a long time, their blue eyes locked before the younger boy looked away, face falling.

“Calum wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Ashton or befriend us but… but he did,” Luke said softly, crestfallen. “At the end of the day, I suppose that doesn’t change anything, does it? He’s still lied to us every single day since he arrived here. He’s still put Ashton at risk.”

Laura knew the words were the truth and it wasn’t just the sincerity blazing in her brother’s eyes that proved it to her. It was also Michael’s ruined relationship with Calum, who had once been his very closest friend. They’d often bickered in the past but for them to have a falling out of this magnitude must have indicated that something truly terrible had passed between them… something impossible to recover from.

Luke’s words sent the last puzzle piece falling into place and Laura felt sick as she bit her lip, her teeth sinking in hard enough that it went bloodless.

“Every time Ash has got hurt, it’s been worse than the time before,” she realised, her heart aching when Luke shuddered, looking smaller than he ever had. He reached for her scarred hand, fingers entwining as he watched her with desperation. “He might not survive another round against David… _or_ Calum for that matter.”

“So what do we do?” Luke asked anxiously, his blue eyes wide and afraid. Laura swallowed past the lump in her throat as she drew him in for a hug, her heart aching when he tucked his face away into her neck, clinging to her the way he’d done on his first day of school when _he_ was the tiny one instead.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly, heart aching. “But let me deal with it now, okay? You’ve had to deal with enough as it is.”

The footsteps of the approaching guards broke the quiet and the pair slipped silently into the shadows, hands still clasped firmly together as Laura led Luke back towards their quarters. He slipped into his room without a word and she crept towards Michael’s as quietly as she could, her lip sore between her teeth as she desperately tried to think of a solution.

She had no idea how to resolve the situation but one thing was painfully clear in her mind: Ashton needed to be told the truth.

Tonight wasn’t the time though, especially when it was this late. Ashton would likely already be with Calum and, quite frankly, that wasn’t a fight Laura wanted to start.

*

The road leading to Sepulcrum – the home of the Tenebran arena – was uneven and, with every jolt of the transport, Ashton’s back ached a little worse than before. The most frustrating part of it all was that he knew it was his own fault too. He knew he’d been overdoing it in the gym lately but, despite Calum and Sierra trying to make him see sense, Ashton had been determined to rebuild his old muscle mass and prove – possibly to himself – that he was the same person he’d been before the war. Unfortunately, with the benefit of hindsight, he could see now that this pig-headedness had led to his own detriment.

“You’re very quiet today, Ash,” Fletcher said softly from where he was sitting across from his son. “Are you feeling alright?”

His mum was watching him with poorly-disguised concern too and Ashton sighed softly when he felt Sierra’s gaze fixed on him from the seat beside his own.

“I’m just nervous about the challenge today; that’s all,” he said heavily, deciding at the last second that lying was easier than trying to put his confusing feelings into words. He didn’t know how to explain that all of the good things in his life seemed to be breaking but that he had no idea how to fix them. That hurt too much to think about, let alone dwell on enough to form words.

“You’ll do great, Ash. I’m sure of it.” Sierra smiled at him but her expression became faintly knowing as her eyebrow rose. “After all the training you’ve been putting yourself through, how could you _not_ do well?”

“Yes, well –” Ashton muttered, cheeks heating as he shot his bodyguard a weak scowl.

“We’ve been looking forward to visiting you, love,” Anne added from the seat beside Fletcher, her smile warm and encouraging although there was a hint of concern colouring her expression. “It hasn’t been the same without you all back on the estate. We’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Ashton admitted, his face falling as he let his cheek rest against the window where the raindrops were rolling outside. “I can’t wait to come home again. The final challenge can’t come soon enough.”

“Surely you don’t believe that,” Fletcher said with a smile that seemed just a little uneasy. “We thought it would take a whole army of us to pry you away from Calum after the contest. I thought the two of you were inseparable.”

“Yeah,” Ashton whispered as he lowered his gaze, fiddling with the necklace Calum had given him as the water sloshed around with the movement of the transport. He clasped the pendant in his fist, a heavy sigh escaping him as the rain rolled down the window like tears. “I thought so too.”

The rest of the journey was completed in relative silence, broken only by the beat of the rain on the roof of the vehicle and the quiet sighs that escaped Ashton whenever his back ached. The road they were on was miserable in the downpour, the grey tarmac and the dark clouds blurring together into a horrible shadowy place that the Crown Prince wanted no part of. It didn’t seem to matter that their transport was being closely followed by several others, all of them containing his friends and their families, and the other spectators on their way to fill the arena for the third challenge; Ashton still felt dreadfully alone.

Sepulcrum was a dismal place when they finally arrived, battered by the winds clawing their way across the surrounding moorland as the arena stood vast and weathered under the grey sky. The remnants of trees could be seen crouching in the long grass, withered and twisted after so many years exposed to the icy wind. Little though he wanted to admit it, Sepulcrum had the air of an ancient graveyard and no good would come of lingering here; Ashton was certain of that.

The very moment the transport doors were opened, he felt cold. The ice settled in his bones and he shivered violently as he stepped down onto the cracked tarmac, wrapping his arms around himself as Sierra huddled close beside him, her dark eyes drifting over their surroundings as she ensured there were no threats.

“It’s not as charming as Gravenwick, is it?” Anne could be heard murmuring as Fletcher helped her out of the transport with a grim smile on his face. The Claritan King laughed softly although the sound quickly died when his gaze settled on the arena, crouched ominously over them like a beast about to pounce.

“That it is not, my love,” he agreed quietly, his tone grave. “But we’re here for Ashton. Let’s focus on our son.”

The homesickness the Crown Prince had been feeling silence arriving in Tenebris abated a little at those words and he managed a faint smile when Sierra caught his gaze. She gave his hand a squeeze, her expression softening when he inhaled raggedly, allowing a little of the fear and anxiety he could feel to colour his gaze.

“C’mon, Your Illustriousness,” she said softly, eyes twinkling. “You’ve got this. You’re gonna do amazing.”

“Thanks,” he breathed, too tired to joke now. It worried him a little; the fact that he was already this exhausted before the challenge had even begun, especially when he had no idea what to expect. Calum had looked similarly shattered this morning when they’d parted ways but, for once, thoughts of the Prince did nothing to calm the anxiety Ashton could feel burning in his veins.

Ever since the younger boy had appeared at Ashton’s door with cuts on his face and secrets buried in his tear-filled eyes, a wedge had been driven firmly between them. The constant lies were scraping Ashton raw and he felt sick with the knowledge that maybe even his relationship with Calum was damaged beyond repair these days because… fuck, everything was falling apart.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand the pain of it.

He was weary enough that the next half an hour passed in a blur as, slowly but surely, he and his companions were granted passage into the arena. There were the facial recognition systems and metal detectors he’d grown so used to, but there was another checkpoint too; this one was directed by a guard with a blood testing unit who explained in clipped tones that she needed to ensure no one entering the arena had been exposed to high levels of the poisonous smog polluting the city of Effervo.

The light on the unit flashed green and Ashton slipped by with a quiet sigh of relief, uncomfortable with the idea that even the air in Tenebris could potentially be unsafe. Logically, he knew he would have to have hidden himself down in the winding streets of the capital city for _years_ before the toxins in the smog reached dangerous levels in his bloodstream but it was difficult to be rational when he felt so much like people were hiding things from him.

His heart felt heavy with it when he finally found his way to the changing rooms, his shoulders slumped with weariness when Sierra stopped outside the door, levelling him with a soft look as he slipped unwillingly inside. The kit bag containing his suit dangled from his shoulders and, despite the fact that it was relatively light, even that was enough to send his back aching as he slipped into the closest cubicle, dropping it onto the bench with a heavy sigh.

A part of him wanted to cry but he squared his jaw and shoved his jeans off instead, gritting his teeth as he wriggled out of his t-shirt and hoodie too. He heard the door open and close outside, and held his breath as he reached for his suit, his fingertips sliding over the thick material as he listened to the sound of footsteps passing beyond the cubicle.

“Ash?” Calum’s voice was soft and tired, and Ashton didn’t realise he’d hidden himself away from his boyfriend on purpose until he processed the sickening _relief_ he could feel that there was a panel separating them. He could see the Prince’s shadow under the door and Ashton grunted something unintelligible in response, too prickly and unhappy to risk actually allowing any words to escape him.

Calum sighed quietly before he padded off to get changed too and Ashton wanted to feel relieved that he was gone but a lump had risen in his throat now, and his eyes were stinging with tears as he stepped into the suit. He flinched at the rippling burn he felt when he stretched to fasten the garment, his shoulders slumping with despair when he processed the fact that he couldn't ask Calum to help him this time.

The shame had barely had time to saturate his expression when the door to the changing room opened once more as Laura slipped into the room, lingering awkwardly by the wall. She inhaled shakily, the sound loud in the quiet before she finally found the courage to speak up.

“Ashy?” she called, sounding more awkward by the moment. “Are you in here?” She hadn’t sounded so unsure of herself in a long time and Ashton felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he unlocked the cubicle, stepping out into the open space with a look of confusion on his face. The fact that she seemed so uneasy could mean nothing good and the nerves he could feel left him breathless as she met his gaze.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his cheeks heating as he raked his fingers through his hair, the red curls limp from the rain outside. His hazel eyes were glassy with sadness and exhaustion, and Laura’s face crumpled as she closed the distance between them, her lips pressed together unhappily. “Can’t do my stupid suit up,” he admitted, ashamed. “My back –”

“I know, sweetheart,” she whispered, her face softening further as she moved behind him. “I know.”

She zipped his suit up most of the way before she caught a glimpse of the pain colouring his expression, despite how hard he was trying to hide it. Her teeth worried painfully at her bottom lip as she came to a decision but the touch of her scarred fingertips remained comforting when she turned him gently in her arms.

“Hey, you,” she murmured, her own eyes suspiciously damp as she drew him into a gentle hug. “How are you feeling?”

Her palms stayed spread on his back and he relaxed a little at the dull heat he could feel as she pushed a little of her magic under his skin, easing some of the ache he could feel. She zipped the suit up the rest of the way with a quiet sigh and Ashton slumped in her arms, letting his head fall to rest gently against her shoulder.

“Better, thanks to you,” he said shyly, tightening his fingers in the back of her jumper like that would be enough to keep them both safe. “I just –”

“Ashy, is Calum here?” Laura asked suddenly, her voice soft enough that it took him a moment to process the words before he looked up at her in surprise. After a pause, he nodded slowly, jerking his thumb towards the cubicle where the younger boy was presumably changing. Laura cringed, biting her lip harder as she shot her best friend an anguished look.

“Ash, there’s something I need to tell you about,” she breathed, her words strained as she stretched her sleeves down over her scarred hands unconsciously, a sure sign that she was distressed or frightened. “I need to warn you –”

Another knock on the door sent her breath catching in her throat and Ashton cringed as Harry swept into the room, looking incredibly out of place in the luxurious suit he was wearing. It was lovingly made from rich velvet, a dark turquoise at first glance although there was a peacock-like quality to the material that was only apparent when he moved beneath the lights.

“Good afternoon, Ashton,” Harry said lightly, frowning for a moment before his green eyes shifted to the cubicle where Calum had just emerged in his suit, running his fingers nervously through his dyed blond hair. “Hi, Calum.” There was a pregnant pause as the two Princes avoided eye contact and Harry floundered for a moment, shooting Laura a slightly desperate smile as he needlessly smoothed down his jacket.

“Hello, Laura,” he said, smile just a little too tight to be natural. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How have you been?”

“Oh, I… I’ve been fine,” she said uncertainly, biting her lip as she fiddled once more with the sleeves of the jumper Michael had offered her. “Just muddling by; you know me.”

“Well, keep it up,” Harry said, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder before his gaze flickered automatically to Ashton and Calum. “Now, I expect you’ll be wanting to join your friends up in the stands, Laura,” he added, his tone warm but leaving no room for argument. Clearly, he had come on business. “Perhaps we can catch up later.”

“Sure,” Laura said timidly, glancing unhappily at Ashton when she realised it was time to leave him behind. “Good luck, boys.” She hesitated before leaving, however, and after a moment – seemingly on a whim – she coaxed a flower out of thin air, its petals shining like sapphire and emerald. Much to Harry’s surprise, she tucked it carefully into his buttonhole and murmured a quiet: “Please look after them”, and the three watched her go in silence when Laura finally slipped out of the door, drying her eyes with her sleeve.

“Right, boys,” Harry said, looking increasingly uneasy although clearly striving to exude his usual confidence. He looked too faded for his suit today; too small for the white ruffles of his shirt as he fidgeted under lights harsh enough to highlight the bags under his eyes. “Happy to be back in those wonderful suits, are you?” At the sour expressions blooming on both boys’ faces, he managed a wan smile. “At least they keep you safe.”

“Doubtful,” Ashton muttered, avoiding eye contact as he scuffed his trainer on the ground. “Calum still snapped his wrist last time, didn’t he? I thought these suits were supposed to _protect_ us.”

“Yes,” Harry said, frowning. “So did I.” He shook his head abruptly, apparently keen to focus on the reason for his unexpected visit before they ran out of time. “I came to talk to you about our conversation the night the Caelum Assembly Building was attacked; do you recall what we discussed?” He watched them expectantly as the pair shifted uneasily, Ashton moving to wrap his arms around himself protectively while Calum rubbed the back of his neck in a clear display of apprehension.

“We talked about the lack of healers during the second challenge,” Ashton said after a pause, grimacing as he remembered the terrible pain in his chest when he’d truly believed he was going to drown below the tree roots; the sharp sting of the mordere’s claws carving his cheek as the blood gushed free. “And –” He faltered, glancing towards the Prince unconsciously before he forced himself to focus once more on Harry. “– and we talked about how someone was potentially meddling in the tournament.”

Ashton knew he hadn’t imagined it when Calum stiffened, his hands curling into fists as his teeth sank into his lower lip. The water cooler in the corner of the room was suddenly bubbling with just a little more intensity than it had been before and Ashton felt his pulse quicken as the doubt began to seep through him like poison.

He couldn’t shake the frightening memory of that night outside the Caelum Assembly Building; remembered their discussion with Harry and how the guilt had shone like a flame on Calum’s face as he whispered: “Angel, I have to tell you something”, mere seconds before Ashton narrowly avoided being shot. That guilt was visible again now, burning dully in the Prince’s eyes as he stared down at the floor, gaze wide and frightened, hands trembling.

“I’ve just checked the staff sheets on my way here and they indicate that there should be twenty healers spread throughout the arena today,” Harry explained, jarring Ashton back to the present as Calum gazed at the older man with raw fear in his eyes. “I was relieved at first but… well, I haven’t seen evidence of a single one.”

“And now Niall’s been shot too,” Ashton whispered, his heart aching at the thought of his friend’s injury, even as his gaze flickered once more to the pained expression on Calum’s paling face. “Everyone’s just assumed that he was hurt because he’s an empath but… but what if it was something else entirely? What if it’s to do with the Elevare instead?”

“I think there’s a chance you could be right,” Harry agreed grimly, squaring his jaw. “I’ll try to get in contact with as many of the healers listed here as possible after the contest but… there’s no time now. You’ll both just have to be extra careful. I’m only sorry I can’t do more to keep you safe.”

“But… that doesn’t make any sense!” Calum blurted out, looking lost. “There’s already a shortage of healers in Tenebris. Why on all of Cerasus would people want to get _rid_ of them?! They help us!”

“Well, I’ve seen first-hand how painful Tenebrans find admitting they have emotions,” Ashton said spitefully, being more than a little unfair. “Maybe acknowledging physical wounds is a sign of weakness too.” He’d only snapped like that because he was feeling quite so vulnerable so it took him by surprise when Harry nodded gravely, looking as though he wouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest.

“Perhaps,” the older man said, his tone unusually solemn. “There’s no way of knowing for sure… but what we _can_ be sure of is that someone is meddling in the Elevare.” His green eyes hardened, his shoulders squaring as the tension that had already been saturating the room infected him too. “That’s why there were no healers present during the second challenge; why there were mortiferns there, even when the arena was crackling with magic.”

“The dagger,” Ashton breathed suddenly, his eyes widening with horror as the dread rose inside him like a tidal wave. Calum flinched like he’d encountered boiling water but Harry’s eyes were narrowing now as he watched the Crown Prince carefully, clearly confused. “Harry, there was a dagger during the second task! Calum told me he’d read about it… said that one tiny cut from the knife caused instant death. That shouldn’t have been present in the arena either, should it?”

“Definitely not,” Harry murmured, looking shocked. “Calum, you said you’d read about it?” The Prince cringed at being addressed by the commentator and Harry’s eyes narrowed once more, his expression flickering between uncertainty and outright distrust. “Where did the dagger come from? Maybe if we know its origin, we can work out who’s been meddling in the tournament.”

Calum’s lips parted but no sound came out, his face pale as bone now. He shook his head silently after a long moment and Ashton’s dread threatened to suffocate him as he took a step away from Calum, his heart clenching unpleasantly in his chest.

“I don’t know,” Calum breathed when the disbelieving expression on Harry’s face became too much to bear. “I can’t remember. I’m sorry.”

Ashton stared at Calum in horrified silence, taking in the numbness in his dark eyes and the cuts on his cheek that he still refused to tell his boyfriend the cause of. He knew without a doubt that the younger boy was lying but that sting was no longer an unfamiliar pain; it had been torturing Ashton ever since he’d first arrived in Tenebris and the dismay he could feel showed no sign of abating.

Harry’s comm chimed in his pocket and he cursed as he withdrew it, flattening his dark curls with something bordering on frantic as he slipped out into the corridor to take the call. Calum cringed when the changing room door swung shut, the sudden silence almost deafening as Ashton held his gaze, his expression nothing short of wounded.

With shaking hands, the Crown Prince reached up to remove the necklace he was wearing. His fingertips trembled as he turned the little bottle of water over, watching the liquid slosh around inside. Calum looked distressed when Ashton finally met his gaze, his hazel eyes curiously blank now as he tried to smother the pain he could feel.

“This is enchanted, isn’t it?” he asked heavily, his heart aching when the Prince nodded.

“There’s a protection charm on it,” Calum whispered, his eyes damp with tears. “You… you do _believe_ me, don’t you?”

“Sure I do, Cal,” Ashton murmured, his voice shaking as he pressed the necklace gently into Calum’s unresisting hands. “But I’m not wearing it. I wouldn’t want an unfair advantage in the challenge.” His hazel eyes flashed at those words and he wondered if Calum would correctly interpret what he’d meant; if he’d process the fact that _he_ had an unfair advantage because it was most likely his own father trying to manipulate the competition in his son’s favour.

Ashton watched him, his expression calculating before Calum turned away, shoulders slumped as he tucked the necklace into his own kit bag. His cheeks were wet with tears when he turned back to face the Crown Prince and the unexpected sting of guilt took Ashton by surprise as he gazed at the younger boy, his lip drawn tightly between his teeth.

“Cal –”

The door to the changing room swung open once more and Harry returned, looking more harried than ever as he managed a weak smile that didn’t even come close to looking sincere.

“Alright, boys, it’s time to go,” he said firmly, his expression rapidly growing concerned when he saw the pain in Ashton’s eyes and the tears on Calum’s face. “The world’s waiting.”

*

“Welcome, everyone, to the third task of the Elevare – the Geminae!”

Harry spoke with his usual enthusiasm but, despite his voice being amplified around the arena, he sounded fainter than he ever had today as the screaming winds of Sepulcrum howled beyond the ancient stone walls, threatening to steal his words.

“For any truly unfortunate souls who have yet to learn of my remarkable existence, my name is Harry Styles,” he announced, his peacock-coloured velvet suit luxurious under the lights. “I’m a comms personality, a truly _fabulous_ baker, and – drum roll please – one of two finalists in A Starlet In Claritas! I’d just like to take this opportunity to thank my adoring fans – all who voted for me, you will not be disappointed! In fact, I’ve heard tell that I have a very special fan present tonight – King Fletcher of Claritas is here, everyone! A round of applause for King Fletcher, please!”

It was less a round of applause, more an awkward smattering of clapping from the Claritans in the audience – clearly, the people of Tenebris had not yet forgiven King Fletcher after the Boneflats War – and Harry grimaced good-naturedly as he quickly changed the subject.

“Now, let’s get down to business,” he said swiftly, clapping his perfectly-manicured hands together. “Down in the arena below you is a maze – make sure to _ooh_ and _ah_ , everyone, for it took some very powerful sorcerers well over a month to grow those hedges!”

The crowd made the impressed noises obediently and Harry beamed as his green eyes flickered down to where the two Princes were standing, both on opposite sides of the arena floor.

“The aim of the Geminae is relatively simple,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Our brave competitors must race each other through the maze and they may well encounter some nasty surprises along the way. Whoever reaches the centre first will have the _chance_ to win the challenge… but it’s not that easy. In order to escape from the maze, our champions must complete a final task which will be broadcast live on the comms screen; only then will they be granted safe passage back to the outside world.”

Ashton felt sick with how frantically his heart was racing as he listened to the instructions. Already he felt drained and the challenge hadn’t even started yet; his own imagination was doing its best to torture him now with horrible thoughts of what might be lurking within the hedges, ready to pounce on him the moment he let his guard down.

He couldn’t see Calum from this vantage point – the Prince was on the other side of the arena, far away both emotionally and physically – and Ashton felt like he’d been torn apart as his hand slipped to his bare neck, bereft without the necklace Calum had given him.

“Champions, the time is upon us!” Harry cried, spreading his hands dramatically as an excited murmur rippled through the spectators. “To be granted access into the maze, a riddle will need to be solved. Boys, if you’ll kindly step up to the hedge closest to you, we can begin.”

Frowning in confusion, Ashton did as he’d been asked. The hedgerow towered above him – three times his height at least – and he shivered at the immensity of it as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. A terrible pressing silence seemed to grow with every step Ashton took towards the sinister dark green leaves and his heart shuddered horribly in his chest when a disembodied voice sounded, emotionless and eerie.

“ _It is the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of the end, and the end of every space. What is it?_ ”

Ashton gaped at the hedge in silence, his lips parting as he released an incredibly intelligent: “ _Um…_ ” that was presumably visible on the comms screen if the sudden ripple of laughter was any indication. He flushed as red as his hair as he took a step closer, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip as he watched the hedge uncertainly.

“Again please?” he asked awkwardly, unsure of where to direct his question. “And… and maybe slower this time?”

The mysterious voice complied and Ashton closed his eyes to focus on the words, doing his best to tune out the spectators and Harry’s commentary as he listened to the riddle. The answer came to him out of nowhere, striking him like lightning as he straightened up with excitement and adrenaline rippling through him.

“The answer is the letter E!” he declared, hazel eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Am I right?”

With a creak of branches and a rustle of leaves, the hedge parted to grant Ashton passage into the maze. He stepped into the darkness without hesitating, fired up with the tension he could feel and how desperate he was just to get this contest over and done with. Unfortunately, any confidence he’d felt vanished the moment the hedge sealed itself behind him and he shivered as the hairs rose on the back of his neck. The atmosphere felt even more sinister than the beginning of the second challenge and he swallowed audibly as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom, trying to appear braver than he felt for the cameras.

The shadows shifted up ahead and Ashton cursed softly, extending a hand to light the way with his flames. The familiar blue of his fire looked eerie in the darkness and he shivered as it curled tenderly between his fingers, revealing a twisting path that led deeper into the nightmarish confines of the maze.

An acrid smell slowly became noticeable as he stepped deeper between the towering hedgerows and Ashton wrinkled his nose in distaste, his heart pounding as the distant dripping of water set his nerves on edge. His breathing seemed too loud and ragged for so early in the contest, and he shuddered as he added a little more energy to his fire, the icy-coloured flames growing larger as they glowed in his exhausted hazel eyes.

The bitter smell was growing stronger now and Ashton bit his lip as he tried to move away from it, afraid of what exactly might be creating the unpleasant odour. He cursed when he came to a dead end, realising with unhappy certainty that he would have to confront it, whatever _it_ happened to be.

His fire cast flickering shadows through the darkness as he started back down the twisting path and, for the first time, he felt a pang of concern as he wondered how Calum was faring. This challenge was doing a brilliant job of making Ashton feel overwhelmingly grateful for his fire powers and he felt terrible that the Prince must be struggling right now, especially with only his water magic for assistance.

A low rumble interrupted Ashton’s thoughts and he frowned, peering through the darkness on either side of him in confusion as the hedgerows began to rustle. His first thought was that perhaps it was Calum but… the Prince wouldn’t seek him out now, especially after how openly the doubt and suspicion had shone in Ashton’s eyes. They’d hurt each other too badly and, besides, Calum had entered through a different entrance; they were both on opposite sides of the arena, racing to reach the centre first.

There was no time for Ashton to dwell on his pain now.

He needed to move but, no sooner had the thought crossed his mind, the rumbling grew louder. It sounded different now; less like thunder and more like the thud of many feet striking the floor at a frighteningly fast pace. Ashton froze in terror, his blood running cold in his veins as he took a shaky step away from the approaching creature, and then another, and another.

In the darkness as his anxiety overwhelmed him, he became disoriented and it wasn't until he heard a triumphant screech as the monster tore through the hedgerows towards him that Ashton realised he’d made a terrible mistake. In his panic, his fire had sputtered out, leaving him in total darkness, and his heart clenched horribly in his chest when his outstretched hands encountered the hedgerow in front of him.

He’d hurtled down a dead end, trapping himself between the boundaries of the maze and the beast chasing him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he breathed, hazel eyes wide with panic as he pressed his back against the hedgerow, blind in the darkness. The footfalls were louder than ever now, the tread heavy and clumsy as the creature crashed ever-closer. Ashton tried with all his might to conjure a flame, his pulse roaring in his ears as a tiny wisp of orange fire licked at his fingertips, barely enough to see by.

His heart shuddered in his chest when the monster ripped through the last hedgerow to tower over him, even all the way at the far end of the path. It had ten thick hairy legs and more wildly staring eyes than Ashton could count and, when it opened its gaping maw to release a terrible screech of triumph, he saw its razor-sharp fangs tucked away behind its pincers, each one utterly lethal.

It was undoubtedly a saeva and Ashton thought he understood Calum’s terror now when he’d warned the older boy just how dangerous they were. This one stood at almost twice his height, releasing a menacing chattering sound as its pincers sliced together threateningly. His fire blinked out of existence the way it had done the night he’d almost drowned and Ashton shuddered as the horrible acrid smell washed over him like poison.

He took a step back automatically, clumsy with fear and adrenaline. The ground was damp beneath his feet, uneven with loose stones and the roots of the hedges, and he cried out when he slipped, slamming down hard enough onto the packed earth that he was left winded. His back throbbed with pain and he’d cut his elbow open on one of the rocks, even despite the suit claiming to keep him safe.

The saeva shrieked again at the scent of blood, tearing through the hedges towards him as its pincers snapped together, its eyes alight with a murderous rage that sent Ashton scrambling to his feet, utterly petrified. His hand flew out at an angle behind him and he gasped in shock when it encountered nothing but empty space. That meant there was an escape route after all and he threw himself through it in desperation, almost light-headed with relief until he crashed straight into the saeva’s web.

The strands were thick and glistening, the acrid smell overwhelming everything else as Ashton struggled uselessly, whimpering in fear as he fought to free himself from the web. His back was exposed now, his pulse roaring like thunder in his veins as the heavy rumble of its footsteps approached, slower now that it knew it had him caught.

There were frightened tears rolling down Ashton’s pale cheeks but he was no longer embarrassed about being caught in such a state on camera; not when he was about to be eaten and he knew without a shadow of doubt that there was no one coming to help him.

He squeezed his frightened eyes tightly shut, squaring his jaw as his hands curled into fists. He refused to just give in; to accept that he was going to be slaughtered by some horrible Tenebran creature that had already tried to attack Calum –

 _Calum_.

In a flash, Ashton remembered the moment during the second task when the Prince had introduced him to the horror of saevas. He’d grimly explained what they looked like and warned Ashton against ever meeting one if at all possible, but the most useful part of his advice was that saevas hated fire… and fire had always been something Ashton possessed in vast magnitude.

The hope swelled inside him like his flames as he allowed them to crackle a blinding blue across his knuckles. The creature faltered behind him, its pincers clicking together uncertainly, and he felt the relief bubbling through him as the web melted away where it came into contact with the fire.

He freed himself as quickly as possible, his hazel eyes narrowing as he limped away from the remnants of the unpleasant-smelling web, his fire burning brighter as he turned painfully to face the monster. The saeva was still lurking in the gap between the hedges, its many eyes gleaming horribly in the firelight, and when Ashton sent a searing blue ball of blue flame roaring towards the monster, it disappeared with a frightened chattering sound, vanishing back into the darkness.

Panting, Ashton staggered away, leaving the smoke coiling up into the darkness behind him as his sore elbow throbbed painfully. The torn sleeve of his suit was slick with blood and he grimaced as he wiped the sweat from his brow, his red curls sticking to his forehead as the adrenaline slowly began to bleed from his system. He hadn’t gone far when an unexpected rustling sound in the hedge sent his heart racing frantically in his chest. He whirled round in panic, flames already licking at his fist as he tried to identify the source of the noise.

His eyes widened in shock when he came face to face with a frightened girl standing in the darkness. There was a bloody gash above her eye and the expression on her face was nothing short of terrified as she opened her hands hastily in a pacifying gesture.

“My name’s Taylor, Your Majesty. I’m a healer,” she said quickly, her voice low and soft as her eyes darted around fearfully, one slowly swelling shut due to the bruising. “Will you let me help you?”

“Oh,” Ashton breathed, surprised. “Of course. Thank you.” He frowned at her as she reached carefully for his arm, straightening it gently as he bit his lip at the pain. “Are _you_ alright, miss? Your face…”

Taylor shivered, blue eyes falling shut for a moment as she settled her shaking hands lightly on his bruised skin. The gash on his elbow was deeper than he’d realised and he grimaced as she pushed her magic into the wound, doing her best to heal the worst of it. He relaxed a little when the pain began to fade and, although he was sure he would have a nasty scar there, he was still grateful for her help.

“You need to be careful, Your Majesty,” she said in a low voice, her eyes darting around furtively as the shadows seemed to stretch around them. “There are people in this maze who shouldn’t be here. I tried to confront one of them and… and I only just escaped. That’s how I got hurt.” Her trembling was worse now and Ashton’s frown deepened as he watched her with concern. “I’m the only healer left.”

“But –” The Crown Prince stared at her in horror, thinking back to Harry’s claim in the changing rooms as they’d debated the possibility that someone was truly trying to wipe out the healers in Tenebris. “There are people in the _maze_? People who want to hurt you?”

“You need to be careful,” she repeated, firmer now, her eyes too bright with the tears she was desperately trying to suppress. “Go, okay? Just run. Finish this task as fast as you can and don’t trust _anyone_.” She smiled humourlessly as a drop of blood rolled down her cheek. “Although I suppose I’m asking you to trust me, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Ashton admitted hesitantly, anguished as he looked between Taylor and the dark path leading deeper towards the centre of the maze. “I’m not –”

A distant cry sounded and Ashton’s heart clenched horribly in his chest as he whirled towards the sound because he’d know that voice anywhere.

“Calum!” he gasped, aching at the fear he could hear. He was already halfway down the path towards the younger boy when he faltered, torn as he glanced back at the healer with her bloodied face and the determination saturating her expression. “Taylor, will you be okay?”

“Just go,” she said quickly as a lock of blonde hair fell down to stick in the blood drying on her skin. “Your Prince needs you.”

*

Locating Calum in the darkness of the maze was worryingly easy, especially with the saeva’s pounding footfalls to act as a guide. Ashton's heart was in his throat as he hurtled through the darkness, wincing whenever he staggered into the hedgerow and felt the branches scraping his skin although he didn't allow himself to slow; not when he knew the Prince needed him so desperately.

A wave of dread crashed over him when he heard Calum's startled cry as the monster burst through the undergrowth, pincers snapping as its many eyes rolled madly. Ashton cursed at the fear he could hear saturating the younger boy's voice, aware that Calum was utterly defenceless with only his water powers to protect him against a beast that favoured dark wet climes.

Ashton’s panic made him frantic as he raced to close the distance between them, pushing himself to his limits as his pulse roared in his veins and his aching back throbbed with pain. His heart threatened to stop beating when he hurtled around the corner just in time to see a brief glimpse of Calum cowering against one of the hedges, his face ashen as the saeva towered over him, wicked fangs gleaming in the dim light.

Ashton reacted instinctively, flinging himself out into the open as he splayed his shaking hands, sending out a searing column of blue flame to consume the saeva. It burnt to a crisp in seconds, letting out a piercing shriek as the terrible acrid smell wafted out through the maze like a toxic fog, leaving both boys choking as their eyes burnt.

Ashton had burnt up more of his energy than he’d intended in his desperation and, as the blue fire faded away to nothing, his sudden exhaustion sent him staggering back into the hedge, his flushed cheeks wet with tears. He could hear faint movement coming from nearby and he felt sick as he searched anxiously for Calum beyond the monster’s charred remains, his eyes still struggling to adjust to the darkness after the brightness of the flames.

He felt the pity welling inside him like acid when he saw what had become of the Prince. Calum was tangled in the saeva’s web, writhing weakly although he seemed less frantic now that the beast was dead. He stopped struggling completely when Ashton picked his way gingerly towards him, his hazel eyes sympathetic as he allowed a flame to lick at his fingertip, keeping the fire small enough that he could safely melt the web from Calum without burning him.

“There you go,” Ashton murmured, keeping his palm resting comfortingly on the younger boy’s elbow as he helped Calum straighten up. There was a moment of silence while the Prince tried to calm himself down, drying his eyes sheepishly with the sleeve of his suit as he drew in a shuddering breath. Ashton smiled weakly, heart aching in his chest. “You were right, Cal,” he added, aiming for a grin which died somewhere before reaching his face. “Saevas are fucking terrifying.”

Calum huffed out a surprised laugh, his chocolate brown eyes crinkling fondly as the fondness saturated Ashton’s expression. For just a moment, things felt okay again because they were safe and smiling, and giddy with relief… but then Ashton thought of Calum’s guilt in the changing room; thought of Taylor with her bruised face and her warning that there were dangerous people in the maze who had no business being there.

Ashton took a step back; felt what remained of the saeva crunching under his trainers as the uncertainty bled across his expression. He withdrew his hand slowly, shakily, his hazel eyes focusing razor-sharp on Calum’s face as the Prince gazed back at him evenly, his dark eyes saturated with nothing but grim acceptance.

“Don’t lie to me anymore,” Ashton said quietly, his voice pleading in the darkness. He wavered suddenly, his eyes stinging as the pain welled hot inside him. “I know there’s something wrong with this tournament, Cal… and I know you’re involved somehow.” He thought again of the guilt burning in Calum’s exhausted face; his panicked reaction to the dagger and the blatant lies he’d told Harry when the commentator had questioned him about the origins of the weapon in the changing room. “It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Ashton said helplessly, with just a note of pleading in his voice, like all he wanted was for the younger boy to prove him wrong.

Calum watched him in silence, his expression frighteningly blank although there was a hint of something stormy buried just below the surface.

“There’s no point me trying to defend myself, is there?” he asked bitterly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did. You’ve made that painfully clear.” Calum's voice wobbled suddenly, like he was rapidly losing the fight with concealing his emotions, and he squared his jaw angrily as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Move aside, angel,” he snapped, with no trace of warmth in his voice. “I want to finish this challenge once and for all.”

Ashton stepped back numbly, his eyes glassy with tears as Calum strode past him, disappearing into the darkness. The Crown Prince watched him leave silently, his lips parted at the sheer pain he could feel searing through him before he realised how suspicious this must look to all of the spectators filling the arena. If they hadn’t already guessed at his relationship with Calum before tonight, the tears rolling down his cheeks now would give him away entirely.

Spurred on by the adrenaline stubbornly lingering in his system, Ashton gritted his teeth and ran off down a different fork in the path, not particularly wanting to bump into the Prince again if he could help it. Taylor’s warning was still flitting at the fringes of his consciousness and he could feel the panic seeping through him like poison as he left the saeva’s smoking remains behind, his back throbbing painfully in time with the frantic pounding of his heart.

Ashton didn’t realise he was crying until he felt the pain of the desperate sobs rising chokingly inside him. He staggered to a halt, his vision so blurry with boiling tears that he could barely see as he wiped them shakily away, fighting for breath. His whole being seemed to ache, every heartbeat sending burning pain shooting through him like a wound rubbed tenderly with salt.

Ashton gasped raggedly as he leant against the hedge for a moment, the damp waxy leaves smearing water on his skin as he struggled to breathe, his hand pressing desperately against his chest like that would be enough to take the pain away.

He felt like his heart had been cut out of his ribs.

He felt like a dead man walking.

*

In the end, Calum stumbled into the centre of the maze without realising it at first.

His heart was pounding, his mind still whirling with everything that had happened since the challenge had begun: the riddle and the flicker of movement in the corner of his eye whenever he turned away; the terrifying saeva hell-bent on killing him and the Crown Prince’s heroic actions to the contrary… and Ashton’s plea and allegation, all rolled into a single barb sharp enough to piece Calum’s heart in his chest; to keep it from beating.

He felt numb as he stumbled through a gap in the hedges, a gasp escaping him when he caught a brief glimpse of many floating white orbs illuminating a path up ahead. He blinked frantically to clear his vision at the sudden brightness, wincing as he took a wary step towards the path. He’d barely set foot on the gravel when Ashton staggered out into the open just ahead of him, panting badly as his hands rubbed uselessly at his back. He was clearly in pain but he straightened up at the sight of the Prince, nostrils flaring angrily as he set off at a fast limp down the path.

Calum’s dark eyes narrowed as he set off after the Crown Prince, his lungs burning with the exertion as he closed the distance between them, half-blind thanks to the bright white light emanating from the orbs. Calum was in the lead now but only barely and he had to force himself not to look over at Ashton as he ran, struggling to stay focused as his trainers slid on the damp earth, his jaw clenched with determination.

The path became uneven beneath their feet as they ran and Ashton let out a gasp of pain when it jarred his back, although he didn’t slow down. Calum couldn’t bring himself to either; not when they’d just turned a bend and two glass rooms had come into sight, each one decorated with the Tenebran or Claritan flag respectively.

Calum reached his room mere seconds before Ashton, his heart rising into his throat as his palms slid across the glass. The door swung open silently when he finally found the courage to curl his shaking fingers around the handle and he felt quite sick when it clicked shut behind him, the glass walls turning opaque as the maze was hidden from view.

The first thing Calum noticed when his eyes adjusted to the sudden blinding light filling the room was a camera mounted on the ceiling, in prime position to broadcast his every move to the spectators watching avidly from the arena. Whatever happened now, Calum would need to take care not to lose control because, if he did, he might reveal something dangerous to the millions of people watching him.

The wall opposite him was comprised of a gigantic mirror which stretched from floor to ceiling and Calum swallowed nervously as he stepped towards it, his hands balling into fists. He cringed at the sight of himself; his sallow grazed skin and limp blond hair, and the sheer exhaustion and desperation saturating his every movement, leaving him sluggish and fearful.

He didn’t understand what he needed to do in order to complete the task, at least until the surface of the mirror rippled and his reflection stepped stiffly out of the glass. Calum reeled back in shock, his panic sending him slamming against the wall as he stared at the impassive figure before him in horrified fascination.

“What the fuck?” he breathed, trembling badly as those painfully familiar dark eyes locked with his own. “What the actual _fuck_?”

“To escape from the maze, you must heed my words,” the reflection said, its tone emotionless, its hands limp by its sides. “Escape is behind me but the world lies ahead. To win safe passage, broken glass you must tread.”

Calum gaped at his reflection in confusion for a moment before he remembered he was being broadcast and promptly closed his mouth.

“Wait, um… me…” He trailed off awkwardly, letting out a nervous laugh when his reflection simply blinked at him in surprise, apparently not having expected the need to go off-script. “So… so I need to break the mirror to escape? Like, the mirror’s the door?”

“That’s correct,” his reflection confirmed, its voice a shade less cold. “To earn your freedom, you must break the mirror.”

“Except… well, you’re guarding the mirror, aren’t you?” Calum guessed, his dark eyes narrowing fractionally as he scrutinised his reflection, unnerved by just how lifelike it seemed, right down to the same slouched posture and the slight pout of its lips as it concentrated on what he was saying. “Tell me how to get past you.”

“To incapacitate me, you must –”

“Hey, stop that!” Calum said sharply, his chest tightening with anxiety when he realised that the goal was undoubtedly to fight his reflection… but Calum didn’t _want_ to fight himself. He hated hurting people and he was sick of being forced to do things against his will.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly, feeling an ache in his chest when his reflection’s eyes widened in shock. They were the exact same shade of chocolate brown as Mali’s and Calum felt a pang as he processed that. There was no way he could harm his reflection. He just _couldn’t_. “You’ve done nothing to deserve being hurt.”

The reflection’s lips parted silently and Calum came to a decision, already formulating a plan as his fists uncurled at his sides.

“I’m going to win my freedom without hurting you,” he promised, his tone soft and reassuring, like he was speaking to a frightened child. “But I’ll need your help, okay? I’ll need you to trust me.”

“I cannot –”

“How similar are we?” Calum interrupted, taking care to keep his voice calm and gentle. “Do you just look like me? Or is there more of me in there?”

“I’m you,” the reflection said hesitantly, with a touch of wariness on its face now. “You, the moment you walked into the room.”

“Then you can trust,” Calum said dismissively, before his tone became saturated with curiosity. “Can you feel emotions? Pain?” His chocolate brown eyes softened further when the reflection nodded silently and he pursed his lips, considering this newfound knowledge. “You can?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Calum said quietly, his expression growing calculating. “Okay, then come closer.”

He allowed it to take a few steps unopposed before his hand shot out, his fingers locking around its arm. His reflection struggled but he tightened his grip, holding on for just long enough that he caught a glimpse of the cuts littering the tanned skin of its wrist. It wrenched itself away, panicky and clearly stressed by what had just happened, and Calum felt quite sick as it returned to its place in front of the mirror, breathless and flushed with anxiety.

In that moment, the Prince felt almost painfully sorry for himself. His reflection looked pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” Calum said softly, his dark eyes growing damp as his reflection stretched the sleeves of its suit down over its trembling hands. “I’m sorry but I had to be sure. I know you understand that.” He bit his lip suddenly, feeling his own anxiety flaring to life. “You do, don’t you?”

“Yes,” his reflection said quietly. “I’m you.”

“Yes, you are,” Calum murmured, feeling the cuts on his own wrists throbbing in time with his heartbeat. “So listen to this: I will _not_ hurt you. All I want to do is make things right back home, okay? I’ll do whatever I can to keep our loved ones safe but you _have_ to let me past.” His words had taken on a note of pleading now but he did nothing to hide his emotions; not when he could see his reflection’s resolve weakening.

“I won’t fight you,” Calum said gently, his expression earnest. “Whatever happens is up to you now. You’re in control of our destiny.” As he spoke, he realised with a small jolt of shock that this had been true all along. Calum had _always_ had the opportunity to choose which path to follow; he’d just lacked the strength and the courage, until now at least.

“Right,” his reflection said shakily, glancing about the small white room uncertainly before it refocused on the Prince. “I’ll let you pass but…” It wavered, pressing its lips together to hide the fact that they were wobbling. “What will happen to me when the mirror is broken? Will I die?”

“No,” Calum said softly, his tone edging on desperate now because this was taking too long and he hated the idea of losing when he was so close to earning his freedom. “No, you’re me, remember? We’re the same person.” When his reflection still looked a little doubtful, inspiration struck Calum like a lightning bolt and he caught its attention, raising his hand and digging his nail firmly into his palm.

His reflection blinked in surprise when a crescent moon shape appeared on its own palm and Calum relaxed when he saw some of the tension leaking from its shoulders.

“See?” he asked weakly, the ache in his chest easing a little with relief. “We’re one and the same.”

“One and the same,” his reflection repeated, moving to curiously scratch itself. Raised red marks appeared across the back of its hand but they didn’t bloom on Calum’s skin and they both frowned as the Prince took a step closer, hesitating in the centre of the room.

“It’s time for me to go,” Calum said softly, reaching out hesitantly to squeeze his reflection’s hand in gratitude. “Thank you for this chance.”

“Don’t waste it,” his reflection said. “There’s no time. You need to go.”

“Okay,” Calum whispered, releasing its hand slowly. He took a deep breath, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he tried to work out the best way to smash the mirror but, in the end, there was really only one option. He drew his fist back and punched the glass as hard as he could, cursing when nothing but the smallest crack appeared.

Gritting his teeth, Calum delivered another punch, this one even harder than the last, and he knew he was on the right track when his reflection gasped beside him, flickering for a moment as a bigger crack spread across the surface. Holding his breath, Calum kicked the mirror as hard as he could, squeezing his eyes tightly shut when it shattered into a million pieces.

He opened his eyes just in time to watch his reflection fade away and, although he remained relieved that he hadn’t had to fight himself, watching himself disappear from existence had been undeniably disturbing. Still, the path was clear now and his reflection had told him the truth.

Calum was free to go.

He stepped out into the darkness without hesitation, rolling his shoulders to release some of the tension he could feel as he took a deep breath of the cold air around him. He could see the light at the far end of the tunnel now and he was already heading towards it when he noticed a glimmer of movement through the darkness beside him.

On a whim, he turned towards it, his heart speeding up in his chest when he realised that he could see into Ashton’s room from the outside. He took a hesitant step closer, drifting unconsciously towards the Crown Prince as he completed his final task but, the very moment Calum processed what he was seeing, he wished he hadn’t bothered.

The sight that met his eyes made his blood run cold.

*

Ashton stared at his reflection in appalled silence.

The burning anger he could feel rocketing through him had rendered him speechless as he stared at the mirror image of himself, taking in the scars and the fiery hair; the tear-wet hazel eyes and those clumsy trembling hands that had wrought so much suffering on the Boneflats.

“Escape is behind me but the world lies ahead,” his reflection began, its tone flat and devoid of emotion. “To win safe passage, broken glass –”

Ashton’s fist caught it across the jaw, sending its head snapping back as it stumbled into the mirror it was guarding, eyes wide and frightened. Ashton watched it with revulsion, panting with anger although the strength of his own emotions frightened him as the rage reared its ugly head again. He had no idea where the fury had come from; couldn’t even comprehend what was happening except… fuck, he’d hated himself for so long now and he’d had no way of releasing all of that desperate anger.

There was no one he hated more than himself… and now here was his reflection, standing placidly in front of him, just begging to be destroyed. It didn’t matter that the task only seemed to require he break the mirror; didn’t matter that the goal was only to incapacitate his reflection long enough to slip past it and escape. This hatred had been bubbling under the surface for a long time and Ashton was powerless to control himself… just as powerless and weak as he’d always been, hurting people and ruining lives.

His reflection was pressed back against the wall now, cowering under the blows although it seemed to be trying to fight back, even despite its fear. A flicker of orange flame curled across its fingertips and the disgust Ashton felt in that moment left him breathless as the fire inside threatened to swallow him whole.

He hated the way his reflection cringed fearfully and how weak its magic was which only served as _more_ evidence of his diminished powers. The realisation that this must be how the rest of Cerasus saw him burnt his insides like acid and, as his reflection flinched away in terror from another punch, Ashton hated it so much he could barely breathe anymore; not when he was hurting this badly.

Even during the war when he’d been fighting for his life, he’d never torn into anyone like this before, with the intent to destroy; to tear completely from existence. It frightened him how easy he found it to deliver such brutal punches to his reflection but it was easy to lose himself in the burn of his panting breaths; in his bruised knuckles and the ache of his muscles, and how badly his eyes stung with tears as he fought.

The desperate panicked rage he could feel jarred him straight back to the Boneflats and he could see it in front of him for a moment; felt the blistering sun burning down as the deafening roar of the jets passed overhead. All of the fury that had been building inside him for so long was exploding out of him now and it didn’t seem to matter that his reflection had stopped struggling, more intent on running from him instead; didn’t seem to matter that there was blood trickling down its bruised face as it backed away, pleading and terrified, because Ashton hated himself. He _despised_ himself.

He’d killed so many innocent people; had destroyed so many lives; had caused so many of his loved ones pain.

He’d hurt Calum.

This was nothing more than Ashton deserved.

His knuckles were bruised and bleeding but he couldn’t feel the pain as his punches became wilder, his bloodied fingers twisting in his reflection’s suit as he dragged it down to knee it roughly in the stomach. It let out a rasping groan as it fell down onto its hands and knees, and when Ashton drew his leg back and kicked it as hard as he could in the back, he felt sick when the mechanical flower holding its spine together broke.

It crumpled down onto the floor like a paper doll – a more perfect copy than Ashton had realised – and the sob that escaped him then was enough to send him sinking down onto his knees. The fire that had been building inside him all along rippled free like the sea, the waves of his blue fire breaking molten against the walls. The flames burnt hotter than they ever had and the glass shattered, leaving the mirror in broken shards as the walls around him exploded outwards, letting in a rush of cold air that snuffed out his flames like Calum’s water magic.

Ashton gazed down at his reflection in quiet dismay in the second before it faded, the bruising and bloody gashes etched into his memory as it disappeared into nothing at all. His adrenaline bled away and a broken gasp escaped him as he felt his pain again; the familiar throbbing ache of his spine, the deep bruising spread across his knuckles, the sharp pain in his wrist and the horrible tugging pain of a damaged muscle in his shoulder.

He stared down at the broken pieces of mirror in silence, his lips parting in horror at the appalling realisation that his parents had just watched him destroy himself. His fingers trembled when he touched the shards of glass, his cheeks sticky with tears as he rose stiffly, gritting his teeth at the pain. He needed to leave; needed to get out of here before the true awfulness of what he’d done sank in.

Ashton needed to be alone for that; needed to be far from anyone else who might get caught in the crossfire of his emotions… but first he would need to suffer through Harry’s commentary and stand before the judges beside Calum, no matter how agonising it was. First, he needed to remember how to breathe past the crushing shame he could feel.

His regret only heightened when he crushed the broken glass beneath his feet, staggering out into the path beyond, only to find Calum waiting for him in the darkness, his face ashen, his chocolate brown eyes wet with tears. He was staring at the Crown Prince like he’d seen a ghost and Ashton opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.

There was nothing left to say that would make this right.

“C’mon,” Calum breathed, his voice faint enough that it didn’t have the chance to break. “This is almost over.”

Ashton fell into step beside him dazedly, covered in his own blood as the Prince stumbled along next to him, pale with horror over what he’d witnessed. They were tears rolling down both of their faces but neither of them commented on it and, when they reached the end of the path and the arena came into sight once more, the spectators were hushed too, neither cheering nor booing. They only stared, silent and shocked.

Calum hesitated at the last second, letting Ashton cross the threshold first, and the murmurs that broke out then were deafening as the Crown Prince stepped numbly onto the grass.

“– and, just like that, the Geminae is over!” Harry’s commentary lacked its usual enthusiasm and he seemed quite distressed as he detailed the highlights of the challenge while the two boys made their way silently towards the judges. Harry carefully omitted what had happened in the glass rooms, instead entertaining the crowd with tales of the champions’ questionable prowess against the saeva. The spectators tittered occasionally but there was an air of uneasiness that refused to fade from the arena and it only grew when the judges gave their scores.

Ashton won but only just. His actions in the glass room had been nothing short of disturbing but he’d stepped out of the maze first and, as such, he was declared the winner. Calum stood silently beside him, shoulders tense, head hanging as he stared down blankly at the grass beneath his feet.

His breathing was shallow and fast, like he was trying to keep the anxiety from overwhelming him, and Ashton might have reached for his hand if he hadn’t been covered in blood; if the pain and anger wasn’t still simmering inside him at the memory of the younger boy’s guilt. “Now that the results for the third task are in, it appears our champions are tied for first place,” Harry declared, his green eyes oddly sad where his image was magnified on the gigantic comms screen. “With only one challenge left for this year’s Elevare, who do _you_ think will win the tournament?”

With that, the image on the screen vanished and the two champions were guided back towards the changing rooms. No one came to see if they needed medical attention; no one even passed them a bottle of water and Ashton felt sick as he followed Calum in silence, his feet dragging through the grass, his hazel eyes gritty from crying.

Harry caught up to them in the corridor near the changing rooms, his smile strained although his eyes remained concerned as he congratulated them both on completing the challenge. Calum grunted his thanks, unable to make eye contact as he shouldered past them both on his way to get changed, apparently unable to forget the way the Claritans had turned on him earlier at the mention of the dagger. Ashton watched the Prince leave silently, his whole body aching as a heavy sigh escaped him.

“Ash,” Harry began hesitantly, his tone miserable. “Ash, about what happened –”

“Please don’t,” Ashton breathed, his voice fainter than it had ever been. “I can’t do this right now.” He squared his jaw, turning to face the commentator as he cradled his sprained wrist against his chest. “There was a healer in the maze,” he said quietly, allowing a little of the worry he felt to saturate his tone. “Her name was Taylor and she was hurt. She said there were people in the maze who shouldn’t have been there; people who wanted to harm the healers. Taylor was the only one left but… I didn’t see her once the task was over. I don’t know if she made it out.”

“So we were right?” Harry gasped, horrified. “There really _are_ people in Tenebris who are trying to rid the nation of healers?” When Ashton nodded unhappily, Harry bit his lip, flattening his hair with shaking fingers. “I need to report this,” he said quietly, looking exhausted by the very idea of it. “And I need to look into the whereabouts of the healer you mentioned… Taylor, right?”

“Yeah,” Ashton said quietly, thinking of the bruising on her face and the determination colouring her expression when she’d sent him off to save Calum. “I hope she’s alright.”

“So do I,” Harry said miserably. “Everything else aside, if someone really was in the maze harming the healers, we need a witness to prove it or the claims will never be believed.”

Ashton’s shoulders slumped with weariness and Harry softened, his pale face gentler than the Crown Prince had ever seen it as the commentator laid a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“Go and get cleaned up, Ash,” he said gently, his tone delicate, like he was afraid Ashton might be about to break. “You’ll feel better when you’re cleaned up… and maybe Laura can have a look at those bruises for you, eh?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ashton agreed, his voice faint. “I’ll be seeing you, Harry.”

He trudged back to the changing rooms as slowly as he could manage, keen to take as long as he possibly could because that bought him time before he needed to face his loved ones again; before he needed to see the shock on their faces after what they’d witnessed him to do to his own reflection.

The door creaked when he finally reached the changing room and he bit his lip when Calum stiffened where he’d been sitting on the bench, too tired to peel his suit off just yet.

“What happened back there?” Calum asked quietly, his dark eyes reddened with tears as he rose wordlessly to unzip the older boy’s suit for him. “Why did you do that to yourself?”

Ashton didn’t answer, more focused on struggling out of the thick material as the partially-healed gash on his elbow began to throb anew. He waited until Calum had turned away before he kicked the suit onto the floor, too exhausted to care about exposing himself as he trailed over to search for a change of clothes from his kit bag.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said through gritted teeth as he wriggled into a t-shirt, his back sorely protesting the movement. The silence growing between them felt strained and Ashton broke it unthinkingly, his knuckles burning with pain as he stepped clumsily into his jeans. “Cal, what riddle did you have to answer?”

The Prince stared at him wordlessly for a long moment before he let out a quiet sigh, his whole body wilting as he sank back down onto the bench.

“ _Light brings me to life, but darkness kills me_ ,” he recited, his tone saturated with weariness and something frighteningly numb. “ _What am I_?”

Ashton frowned, his red curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, his sore hands still covered with flakes of dried blood. He needed to shower but he could do that later when he was back in the citadel and there were no watchful eyes making his skin crawl.

“You don’t know the answer?” Calum asked before quietly repeating: “ _Light brings me to life, but darkness kills me. What am I_?” The smile on his face was utterly devoid of humour. “I’m a shadow, Ash. That’s the answer.”

“Oh,” Ashton murmured, wishing that didn’t feel so painfully accurate as he shivered where he was pinned by the younger boy’s dark gaze. “I’m… I’m gonna go outside. I need some air.”

“You need Laura to fix you up actually,” Calum countered but he just sounded sad now and Ashton might have ran from the disappointment in the Prince’s eyes if he’d had any energy left.

He found Laura waiting for him in the corridor outside, pale and frightened as she drew him silently into a gentle hug, and he hated himself even more when he noticed how badly she was shaking.

“Did you see everything?” he whispered and, after a pause, she nodded miserably. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice catching in his throat when she stroked his hair and tucked his head gently into her neck, apparently uncaring of the blood drying on his skin. “I’m so sorry.”

She shushed him tearfully, pressing a firm kiss to his forehead as she rocked him gently in her arms.

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” she asked softly, her blue eyes soft with love and glassy with tears. “Will you let me heal you?”

“Not here,” he pleaded as his trembling fingers twisted in the back of her jumper when the anxiety began to tighten once more around his lungs. “I can’t… I can’t see my parents right now… not after that.”

“Ashy, I really think –”

“ _Please_ , Laura,” he begged, his voice higher as the panic coloured his tone. “Please don’t make me –”

“Okay, okay,” she said hastily, looking quite shaken up by the state he’d got himself into. “Hurry then. If we’re quick, we can get in a transport with the others before your parents get through security.” She hesitated though, biting her lip as she stroked his cheek with shaking fingertips. “I didn't get the chance to warn you earlier but –”

“Let’s get in the transport first, Laura, _please_ ,” Ashton said hopelessly, wincing as he lifted his kit bag onto his shoulder and started to limp down the corridor. She sighed as she fell into step beside him, her fingers brushing soothingly over the back of his hand since he was too bruised for her to risk entwining their fingers.

Sierra was waiting by the exit with Michael and Luke, all of them wearing similarly troubled expressions, although they quietly offered their congratulations that he’d won the challenge. Ashton hung his head when Sierra’s arm slipped around his waist, wondering why it didn’t _feel_ like he’d won. He felt like he’d lost everything instead.

“Transport’s this way, Your Illustriousness,” Sierra said softly, her face rippling with pain when he stepped down onto the tarmac and groaned at the way it jarred his back. “Not far now.” She bit her lip unhappily, glancing towards the others before her anxious gaze returned once more to his greying face. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait for –”

“Ash is ready to leave now,” Laura said quickly, her tone almost apologetic. “I think he’d rather get back and clean up there… and I can heal him when we’re driving that way. It’ll save time.”

“Right,” Sierra breathed, her mouth flattening unhappily when they finally reached the transport. Luke helped Ashton climb in wordlessly and Michael looked deeply miserable as he took Laura’s hand, glancing back towards the arena with worry evident in his eyes. Maybe he wondered where Calum was… or maybe he was scared of something else entirely.

Ashton didn’t know. He was too tired to think anymore.

He sank down into the nearest seat with a quiet groan, his eyes falling shut at the pain he could feel although he relaxed a little when Laura started work. She fixed the fractures in his knuckles first, watching the bruising fade with satisfaction before she started on his sprained wrist and the gash on his elbow that Taylor hadn’t had time to repair. The muscle damage in his shoulder and back would be harder to heal but she could probably fix the damage if he gave her a few hours of time later that night, and Ashton might have been grateful for that if he’d even had the energy to open his eyes.

The silence in the transport as they left Sepulcrum behind was heavy and suffocating until Laura broke it, her cheeks wet with tears when she whispered the Crown Prince’s name fearfully. All eyes were on her and she swallowed audibly, dragging the sleeves of the jumper down over her shaking hands as she lowered her gaze, fighting not to lose her courage.

“Ash…” Her voice shook and he knew in that moment that she was going to say something shattering; knew there was a chance he’d break all over again, into a million tiny little pieces just like the mirror he’d destroyed. “Ashy, I need to tell you something… and it won’t be easy to hear.”

“Is it about Calum?” he asked, his tone as emotionless as he could make it. All of them watched him in surprise before Laura exchanged a frightened glance with Luke, missing the way Michael shrank in on himself as his lips pressed together miserably.

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice small.

“Then tell me,” Ashton whispered, closing his eyes as he leant back against Sierra. “Because, at this point, I know you all know something I don’t know… and it can’t be as bad as whatever I’m imagining.”

Ashton was wrong.

The tension in the air became tangible as Laura began to speak and, as the boiling tears began to roll treacherously down his cheeks and his newly-healed hands curled into fists, he quickly realised that the truth was a thousand times worse than anything he could ever have pictured.

He’d believed once upon a time that he knew the feeling of his heart being broken but he realised now that he had been mistaken.

No pain could ever compare to the agony of this betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> If you don't hate me now, I'd love to hear what you thought :)


	20. In The Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! I'm sorry for the delay but I really wanted to get this chapter right. It was pretty heavy to write but I enjoyed it so hopefully you'll have fun reading it!  
> As always, thank you to Laura for your encouragement and feedback - this story would be nothing without you <3
> 
> Trigger warning for anxiety attacks, graphic reference to self-harm, reference to suicidal thoughts/suicide attempt, and just generally an enormous amount of angst.

**_When the dark clouds come your way;_ **

**_When your demons can't be tamed;_ **

**_When your last straw starts to break_ **

**_And you feel your heart can't take anymore._ **

**_When your second chance is gone;_ **

**_When you're barely hanging on;_ **

**_When you're tired of being strong_ **

**_And you don't know where to run anymore._ **

_\- Let Me Hold You, Josh Krajcik_

 

Niall had begged for hours before Hailee had finally agreed to release him from the medical bay for the evening. He’d had to promise he wouldn’t over-exert himself and that he’d be back before bed, and there was no way he could leave the citadel without a bodyguard but the freedom still felt good.

He’d found a lounge a few floors above the Lake Suite with a big comms screen and that was where he’d settled down for the evening, curling up on one of the sofas there as he watched the Elevare broadcast with bated breath. It hadn’t been easy viewing and he felt quite shaken up by the time Ashton had been declared as the winner, his skin splattered with his reflection’s blood, his hazel eyes curiously blank.

Shivering, Niall rose painfully from the sofa and stood there hesitantly in the middle of the room, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. He wanted to do something nice to cheer his friends up, especially after how difficult the Geminae must have been to watch in the arena itself.

“I know,” Niall breathed, eyes lighting up as he eased his comm carefully out of his pocket. The pull of muscle in his shoulder ached dully but he focused on messaging Luke as his thumbs flew across the screen, tapping out a message explaining where he was and asking his boyfriend to bring their friends to the lounge once they arrived back in Effervo.

Feeling the beginnings of something that was _almost_ excitement fluttering in his stomach, Niall poked his head out of the door and caught the gaze of a guard lingering nearby. The man looked incredibly bored and had presumably been instructed to ensure Niall didn’t get himself injured again, and the empath made sure to smile as politely as he could when the man shot him a dispassionate look.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir,” Niall said politely, offering a meek smile. “But would you happen to know where I could find some balloons?”

*

Despite Niall’s enthusiasm, nobody seemed particularly in the mood to party tonight, especially after what they’d witnessed Ashton do to his reflection during the challenge.

Calum hovered awkwardly by the wall with his hands buried in his pockets, bone-tired and counting down the minutes until it would be polite to leave the little celebration the empath had cobbled together while his friends were in Sepulcrum. Most of the Claritans hadn’t arrived yet and Niall looked a little lost without them as he sat uncomfortably on the sofa, his jaw squared with pain although he managed a tired smile when Mali and Ashley came to sit beside him.

“I think this celebration is a nice idea, Niall,” the Princess said encouragingly, giving him a gentle pat on the knee. “I think it’s just what everyone needs to unwind a little.”

“They could certainly do with it,” Ashley muttered, looking exhausted by the very idea of being sociable all evening. “Ever since Flos Bay, everyone’s been a wreck.”

Calum pressed his lips together tightly as the awful events of that night flickered before his eyes: the bite of the freezing water and Ashton’s limp broken form buffeted by the waves, and then the crushing guilt he’d felt in the hospital room the following day when Niall had confronted him about Luke’s allegation on the cliffs.

Calum cringed when he glanced up now, only to find the empath watching him with a sad but knowing look on his pale face. Pressing his lips together unhappily, the Prince turned away. He didn’t want to see the pity in Niall’s eyes tonight; not when he’d already been the subject of Ashton’s suspicion earlier in the maze… not when the Crown Prince hadn’t even given him the _chance_ to defend himself.

No sooner had the thought crossed Calum’s mind than the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard, heavy and angry, and growing closer by the second. Whoever was stamping closer wasn’t alone judging by the rising murmur of voices and Calum frowned as he pushed himself away from the wall, hating the choking dread he could feel when he heard Laura’s hissed: “Ash! Ashy, just - just _wait_! Don’t do something you’ll regret!”

The moment Ashton stormed into the room, Calum knew it was all over.

The bang of the door slamming into the wall echoed in the sudden silence that had fallen as any chatter died like a candle being extinguished. Ashton’s anger was blistering enough that Niall flinched and Calum felt the colour draining from his face as the Crown Prince approached him, his hazel eyes wet with livid tears, his hands curling into fists.

“I trusted you!” Ashton cried, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions as he closed the distance between them. “I fucking trusted you!”

Calum didn’t resist when Ashton slammed him back against the wall, hanging limp in the older boy’s shaking hands as the enchanted necklace weighed him down like lead where it was buried in his pocket. Calum’s heart felt like a lump of ice in his chest, no longer beating. <>“You’re _really_ not going to say anything?” Ashton demanded incredulously when the younger boy remained silent, his full lips jammed together, his dark eyes damp with tears. He gave Calum a little shake, just hard enough that his head rocked back against the wall, drawing an unconscious wince from him.

In the tense silence that followed, Mali took a wary step closer, her expression undeniably pained as she looked between the two Princes despairingly.

“Ashton,” Mali said gently, even as she extended a hand to keep Ashley seated where the bodyguard was watching Calum with concern. “Please don’t hurt him.”

The tension in the room was reaching breaking point now – Calum could tell by how bone-white Niall’s face had become as he sat rigidly in Luke’s grip – but it shattered when Ashton’s strength crumbled suddenly, the tears rolling hot down his cheeks as his fist slammed into the wall beside Calum’s head.

There’d never been a chance that he could hurt the Prince. Not _really_ , no matter how angry or upset he might be. Ashton was incapable of causing Calum harm; he just didn’t know how to release the agony he could feel rising inside him like a storm. Orange flames licked at his trembling hands but, despite the crushing weight of his emotions, he did his best to stifle them, not wanting to hurt anyone or drag Sierra into this. His breaths were tearing out of him in ragged gasps by now, his hazel eyes overflowing with boiling tears as Calum gazed at him silently, his heart tearing itself apart in his chest, unable to find the words he needed to make things right again.

He wanted to speak; wanted to say sorry and reassure Ashton that he’d never had any intention of hurting him – especially not once he’d actually met him and realised what a wonderful person he was – but… but fuck, it was impossible to force the words out past the lump in his throat. The Prince felt frozen as he leant there heavily against the wall, pinned beneath the alarmed gazes of the people who had once been his friends.

“I –” Calum broke off, his voice strangled as the scratches under his clothes throbbed in time with his racing heart. “I don’t –”

“Cal?” Ashton sounded more broken than he ever had, his face saturated with desperate grief as he stared at the younger boy wordlessly, his expression wounded.

The room was deadly silent now – quiet enough that a pin dropping would have sounded like a clap of thunder – and Calum shook his head weakly, aching too badly to speak. Ashton’s anger burnt away at the pain in the younger boy’s eyes and he crumpled when the Prince lowered his gaze, unable to look him in the eye anymore.

Calum reached into his pocket for the enchanted necklace instead, his hands trembling badly enough that he could barely get hold of it as he struggled to withdraw the chain, pressing it weakly into the older boy’s unresisting hands. He didn’t know why he’d done it; knew it wasn’t enough to fix things or heal the damage but… but maybe it would be enough to remind Ashton that Calum loved him.

Maybe it would be enough to keep them from crashing and falling apart.

Ashton’s fist loosened in the younger boy’s collar and he took a shaky step back, still splattered with his reflection’s blood, his chest heaving as his anxiety left him breathless and vulnerable.

“I can’t believe you kept this from me,” Ashton sobbed out as a tear slid through the blood drying on his cheek. “I hate you.”

The words hit Calum like a ton of bricks, the horrible reality of them washing over him like icy water as he took a staggering step backwards, winding himself when he collided once more with the wall. Ashton’s knuckles whitened around the necklace as he tightened his shaking grip, his expression tortured as he inhaled unsteadily, desperately trying to find the strength to smash the pendant.

He couldn’t bring himself to destroy it though and Calum watched the self-loathing rippling across Ashton’s face like water as the Crown Prince shoved the necklace forcefully back into his pocket. Calum hated himself for being the cause of the older boy’s pain more fiercely than he’d ever hated anything before and, for just a moment as he listened to Ashton’s broken sobs, Calum honestly wished he was dead.

Niall was watching the Prince with nothing short of alarm now, expression saturated with concern, his face pale with pain as Michael’s frightened gaze settled on the younger boy too. Calum barely saw them though; he only had eyes for Ashton as the Crown Prince flinched away from him, his tears falling faster all the time.

When Ashton limped painfully from the room – taking the heat of his fire and distress with him – Calum lost the will to fight anymore. He slid slowly down the wall as his heart clenched painfully in his chest, his eyes glazed as he stared blankly at the floor, his hands falling to rest limply on the carpet beneath him.

Ashton’s sobs were still audible from the passageway outside and Laura went to him quickly, closely followed by Sierra who glared at Calum as she stalked past him, the anger on her face not _quite_ strong enough to drown out her concern. Luke helped Niall up carefully, sliding his arm around the empath’s waist so that they could join their friends, but the empath hesitated in the doorway, his sad blue eyes meeting Calum’s for a moment, his sorrowful expression clearly stating that he’d warned this would happen.

The last person to leave was Michael.

He lingered in the middle of the room, his pale face tight with stress as his gaze settled on the Prince. It seemed to take Calum an age to meet the older boy’s eyes, mostly because he was so terrified of seeing satisfaction buried there. After all, Calum had lied to him for months and hidden the truth, and now the consequences were appalling… but there was no perverse satisfaction hidden in Michael’s expression. He only looked small instead.

Lost.

He took a shaky step back, and then another, and then Michael was gone too, leaving only Mali and Ashley remaining. Neither spoke, apparently unsure of what to say to the Prince, although their pity was tangible and it was more than Calum could bear. He curled in on himself slowly, burying his head in his hands as the sobs tore out of him, but even then they didn’t break the silence.

No words would make things right tonight.

There was nothing left to say.

*

Michael buried the guilt he could feel at abandoning Calum as best he could, smothering it under layers of concern for Ashton and his desire to help Laura make things right again. The emotional wounds the Hood siblings had inflicted on Michael still felt too fresh just to ignore at the first sign of trouble and he tried to remind himself of that as he hovered uncertainly behind his girlfriend, his expression utterly miserable.

It still felt wrong to avoid Calum and Mali’s company like this but he couldn’t deny the fact that he felt more comfortable with Laura these days. At least she didn’t lie to him. At least she loved him and treated him the way he deserved.

It was a little cramped in the Crown Prince’s bedroom now that they were all hidden away in there and Ashton’s anxiety was only making it worse. Some of Calum’s things had been scattered throughout the room when they’d arrived but, despite Sierra already hiding them out of sight, the damage was done. Ashton’s emotions filled the room like smoke as the panic ignited inside him and, with every broken sob that escaped him, the tears brimming stubbornly in Laura’s eyes burnt a little worse, no matter how hard she fought against them.

In the end, only Luke could keep Ashton calm enough that his sister could heal the Crown Prince’s various cuts and bruises. Luke shot Niall an apologetic glance before clambering onto the bed beside Ashton, his arm wrapping warmly around the older boy’s aching shoulders as Ashton tucked his tear-streaked face away into the warm skin of the younger boy’s neck.

“C’mon now, Ash,” Luke murmured as he carded his fingers gently through the Crown Prince’s limp red curls, brushing a tear away gently with the pad of his thumb. “Try to take some deep breaths, yeah? I know you’re hurting but you need to calm down so Laura can heal you.”

Ashton released a shuddering breath and Niall frowned as he joined them on the bed, his palm settling soothingly on the Crown Prince’s shoulder. A faint frown creased the empath’s brow as he concentrated, doing his best to drain a little of Ashton’s anxiety away so that he could avoid a full blown panic attack, even if it _was_ to Niall’s own detriment. Already he could feel a tightening in his own chest as he struggled to breathe evenly past the sudden onslaught of emotions and he gritted his teeth as he focused on Ashton, relaxing a little when the Crown Prince calmed in his grip.

“Ash?” Luke murmured suddenly, frowning. “Are you –?”He broke off at the sight of Ashton’s sleeping tear-streaked face, looking puzzled before his gaze flickered thoughtfully towards Niall. “Did _you_ do that, Ni?” he asked in surprise, his tone doubtful.

“I don’t think so,” the healer said slowly, biting his lip. “If I did, I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to take some of his panic away.” Niall’s frown deepened as he exchanged a worried glance with Sierra. “I guess he must just be exhausted after the task and… and Calum.”

The bodyguard gritted her teeth at the mention of the Tenebran Prince, her dark eyes flashing with protective anger although her expression softened when her gaze settled on Ashton.

“I’m glad he’s sleeping,” she said softly, her lips pressed together unhappily. “He deserves a few moments peace after such a horrible day.”

Michael agreed with the words but he didn’t add to them, more focused on Laura as she squared her jaw and fought against tears, struggling to remain focused on the Crown Prince’s wounds. The gash on his elbow was healed, the bloody cut now little more than a raised red line on his exposed skin where his suit was unzipped around his waist. There were still flakes of dried blood clinging to him but they could be cleaned away later, after he’d slept and eaten, and his bruises had faded.

“I think I better stop by Ash’s parents’ room soon,” Sierra said uncertainly, chewing nervously at her bottom lip. “They were desperate to see him after the task but I managed to convince them he needed some space to calm down.” She smoothed her hair down anxiously, her brow creasing as her shoulders slumped under the weight of her stress. “They wanted to come visit him tonight but… well, if he’s sleeping, maybe they’ll agree to wait until tomorrow.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Laura agreed unhappily as she healed the last bruise staining Ashton’s knuckle. “I know Ash; he pulls himself together quickly. By tomorrow morning, he’ll be able to talk about what happened during the end of the task with a clear head… but it would be too much for him tonight, I think… especially after this evening with Calum.”

“Good point,” Luke said, his cynical tone just strained enough that his unhappiness was clear. “Are we going to talk about what just happened or shall we keep skirting around it?” “I don’t think there’s anything left to say,” Sierra said sharply, her gaze flickering towards Michael uncertainly for a moment before she fixed the younger Hemmings sibling with a hard look. “We all know the truth now, don’t we? Calum betrayed Ashton and now Ash is hurt because of it. I think that’s all there is to it.”

“Not quite,” Luke pointed out, reaching silently for Niall’s hand and giving it a comforting squeeze when the empath clung to him like he badly needed the contact. “Calum is hurt too… or have the rest of you forgotten that?” Laura’s brow creased at the pain blooming on Michael’s face and Sierra sighed, turning away as she glared towards the window.

“That betrayal we learnt of tonight,” Luke began pointedly, his blue eyes hard. “That was King David’s; not Calum’s. He’s just as caught up in this mess as the rest of us are.” He bristled defensively at the doubt on their faces, his pale face flushing with blood as he straightened up on the bed, being careful not to jar a sleeping Ashton who was still leaning heavily against Luke’s chest.

“Lofty,” Laura interjected gently, her tone soft, her eyes heavily-lidded with exhaustion. “Everyone’s tense tonight. I’m sure we’ll all feel a lot more reasonable after a good night’s sleep, okay? So maybe we should just drop this tonight and talk again in the morning.”

“That’s not the point, Laura!” Luke argued, his defensive blue eyes burning with exasperation as Niall shot his boyfriend a wary look. “Were any of you actually paying attention to Calum in the glass room tonight? Because _I_ was and it fucking scared me! I think…” He faltered, swallowing audibly as he stared down at the crumpled bed sheets, a lump rising in his throat. “I think Calum might be hurting himself.”

“ _What_?” Niall breathed, his eyes widening with fear as he stared between his friends warily. “Why do you think that, Lukey?”

“Because… fuck, didn’t you see what he _did_?” Luke whispered, his cheeks flaming when his eyes prickled with boiling tears. “He grabbed hold of his reflection’s arm and saw something on its wrists that made them both panic and…” His words trailed away as he hung his head, his bottom lip wobbling at the strength of his shame. “I’ve been there. I know how it feels to hate yourself so much that you want to… to…” A small choking sound escaped him and Niall reached shakily to cradle his cheek, doing his best to soothe him.

“I can see it in Calum too,” Luke gasped out, his eyes bright with tears. “I’m worried tonight will be too much for him. I’m scared of what he might do.”

Michael felt like he was falling.

With every word Luke had spoken, the horror rising inside Michael had become a little more suffocating but the anxiety was making his head spin now because… fuck. _Fuck_. He’d pushed Calum away when his best friend had needed him most. He’d left the Prince in the dust.

Michael was out of the room before he’d even processed it; before his friends could even utter their surprise at his sudden departure. A ragged sob tore its way out of Michael as he hurtled down the corridor, heading frantically towards Calum’s bedroom. His heart was pounding achingly in his chest, his palms slippery with sweat as he wiped the tears from his cheeks, desperate and hurting.

The moment his trembling hand curled around the door handle to the Prince’s bedroom, Michael knew deep down that his best friend wouldn’t be inside. Calum never wanted to be in the citadel when he was upset; it made him feel trapped and panicky, and Michael felt another sob clawing its way free as he uselessly checked the room anyway, his pulse roaring in his ears, his legs wobbly beneath him. He was halfway towards Mali’s bedroom when the Princess appeared, looking similarly frantic as Ashley brought up the rear.

“Mali!” Michael gasped, his ashen face blotchy with emotion as he choked past the lump of tears lodged in his throat. “Mali, have you seen Calum?!”

Both girls paled, exchanging horrified glances as Mali wrapped her arms warmly around Michael, apparently uncaring that they hadn’t spoken to each other civilly in weeks. He clung to her like a child, his tears soaking her shirt as Ashley’s shaking hand came to rest comfortingly on his shaking shoulder.

“He’s gone, Mikey,” Mali said regretfully, her words strained with concern and distress. “He said he needed some space but… but something doesn’t feel right. We’re trying to find him.”

“Oh no,” Michael breathed as fresh tears welled up. He fisted them away roughly though, refusing to allow himself to wallow in his fear, especially when his best friend might be in such grave danger. “Fuck, okay… well, I’ve checked in his bedroom and he’s not there.” He bit his lip hard enough that it went bloodless, raking his fingers through his hair and leaving the sandy locks sticking up messily. “Um, I’m gonna go check by the lakes. Can you guys search his other haunts?”

“Sure,” Ashley agreed, looking quite anxious at the prospect of losing one of her charges, particularly under such distressing circumstances. “If we split up, we’ll find him much faster. Agreed, Mali?”

“Agreed,” the Princess said quickly, appearing more distraught than Michael had ever seen her as she grabbed Ashley’s hand, already dragging her back the way they’d come. “Quick, Mike! We don’t have time to waste!”

Michael set off at a run, gritting his teeth as he hurtled through the dimly lit passageways, trying to keep his balance. He knew in his heart that his oldest best friend would have gravitated towards the water when he was feeling so troubled and that was where Michael headed now, racing towards the entrance hall of the citadel so that he could escape into the cold night air.

The lakes of Effervo were almost invisible in the darkness on such a moonless night but Michael had trodden this path a thousand times before and he knew - without a single shred of doubt - that he could find his way to Calum with his eyes closed. He was already racing across the grass when approaching footsteps sounded behind him and he blanched, almost losing his footing as he peered through the shadows to see who was following him.

It was Laura and her pale face was set with determination as she thrust his jacket at him wordlessly, her expression so steely that he accepted it with unusual meekness. Michael became aware slowly that his teeth were chattering with the cold and he wrestled his way into the garment quickly, feeling a burning rush of love for his girlfriend when she entwined their fingers, her eyes blazing with love and resolve.

“Where are we going, sparky?” she asked softly, her hand warm and comforting in his. “Where’s Calum?”

“The lakes,” Michael replied grimly, his heart aching in his chest. “That’s where he’ll be.”

*

They found Calum standing alone by the water’s edge.

It was silent on the shoreline, save for Michael and Laura’s ragged breathing as they peered through the darkness towards the Prince. Calum stood alone on the shoreline, knee deep in the icy water, his trousers rolled up to his thighs. There was something marring the tanned skin and, frowning, Michael raised his palm, letting a handful of reddish-violet sparks collect there, casting enough light that the shadows retreated enough to see by.

“Oh, Calum,” Laura breathed, her trembling hand rising to cover her mouth as their gazes settled on the deep gouges decorating the Prince’s thighs. They oozed blood, clearly recent and worryingly deep, and Michael’s heart felt like it had stopped beating in his chest as he took a shaking step closer, his foot sliding on the uneven ground.

The beach beneath them was made up of stones, not sand. Shards of greyish flint covered the banks, razor-edged and vicious. Michael had cut his feet so many times playing here as a child; they both had. Even the beaches were harsher in Tenebris.

Calum barely seemed to notice them as he stood there, just swaying gently in the breeze as the water lapped around his bare legs. The autumn leaves on the trees surrounding them rustled as the cold wind grew stronger and Michael felt sick when he realised that Calum’s water powers wouldn’t be enough to keep him safe now.

The cold would kill him if he stayed submerged like this and Michael’s heart clenched horribly in his chest as he took another staggering step closer, sending the flint clacking beneath his feet. Calum stiffened at the sound and Michael felt fresh tears welling in his eyes as the fear rose inside him like a wave.

“Hey, Princess,” he called tearfully, his teeth chattering as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, stepping closer still. “Bit late in the day for paddling, isn’t it?”

Calum slowly turned his head, his dark eyes swollen with tears, his bottom lip held tightly between his teeth. He met Michael’s gaze and the older boy swore he stopped breathing when he saw the blood rolling down Calum’s arms. A sharp piece of flint tumbled from his limp grip to sink down beneath the water and Michael’s heart stopped beating as he watched it fall, remembering all of the hours he’d spent here as a kid learning to skip stones.

Michael had never really got the hang of it though; too heavy-handed and eager for results. Calum had always been better at it than he was.

“Cal,” Michael said weakly, his emerald eyes burning with tears as he stepped into the water, shivering when it washed over his feet. “Cal, what have you done to yourself?”

Calum laughed humourlessly, turning away again as his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of his devastation.

“Not enough,” he whispered, his words saturated with self-hatred. “I’m still here.”

“Good,” Michael choked out, shivering as he waded deeper into the freezing water, leaving Laura lingering uneasily on the bank behind him. “I’m glad, Cal, because I’m not losing you too. Not for anything.”

“I don’t know why you still care after the lies I’ve told,” Calum breathed, his dark eyes far away as he gazed out over the rippling water, his cheeks streaked with tears, the cuts still dripping blood. “You’d all be better off without me.”

“Don’t say that, Cal,” Michael pleaded as he finally came to a stop beside his best friend. “Don’t even _think_ it because it’s not true, okay? We’d all be lost without you.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat, his eyes welling with tears when he reached to squeeze Calum’s shoulder gently. “ _I’d_ be lost without you.”

The Prince watched him blearily, his complexion paler than usual, both from the blood loss and the plummeting temperature. His lips were tinged blue and Michael shivered harder, peering at his best friend through the darkness as he struggled to focus on him past the ice seeping into his bones.

“Get out of the water, Mikey,” Calum mumbled, his words a little slurred. “It’s too cold. You’ll get sick.”

“Not without you,” Michael said stubbornly, squaring his jaw as he fixed the younger boy with a fierce look. “I’m not leaving you here. I _care_ about you! Why can’t you accept that?”

“Because I don’t deserve it, Mike!” Calum’s voice shook as it rose in volume, his breathing shallow and fast. The tears rolled down his pale cheeks silently, his dark eyes exhausted and agonised although they were undeniably glassy as his shivers began to slow, his trembling hands curling into loose fists beneath the water. “Why… why do you still _care_?” he gasped, his voice twisting around the word like it was something alien. “All I’ve done is hurt you.”

“That’s not true,” Michael disagreed weakly, sure deep down that he was right. “All you’ve done is _love_ me, Cal. You kept these secrets because you were scared of what your dad would do to me if I found out… and I can see that now, okay? I understand why you hid what you were going through and I’m sorry you had to deal with that alone… but you’re not alone anymore. You never will be again; not if I can help it.”

Calum fell silent, his breaths coming quicker than ever as he processed what the older boy had said. His blood was dissipating in the water now and he seemed more unsteady than ever as Michael risked taking a step closer, his hand wrapping gently around the younger boy’s forearm. He risked chancing a glance towards Laura, his heart aching at the concern saturating her expression as she watched the two boys shivering violently in the freezing water, her scarred fingers twisting anxiously in her hair as she met his gaze fearfully.

“You really do care about me,” Calum murmured, jarring Michael back with his stunned tone. “You do, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, you silly arse,” Michael breathed, his expression softening into something infinitely warmer as a tear rolled down his cheek. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. I **love** you, Cal, and I love being your best friend too. More than anything.”

“But… _why_?” Calum whispered, the confusion evident in his tone as his knees wobbled beneath him. Michael tightened his grip around the younger boy’s arm, his expression softer still.

“I love everything about being your best friend, Cal,” he said gently, his emerald eyes warm despite the numbness spreading through him. “I love the laughs and the tears, and everything in between. I love those nights we went spent dancing and singing ‘til your mum screamed at us to go to bed. I love when we both figured out we liked guys… the kisses and those nights we spent together because… fuck, Cal, things might be different now but I could never regret a single moment spent with you.”

Calum’s tears were falling faster than ever now, his bluish lips parted as he gazed at the older boy, barely noticing the blood trickling down into the water from the stinging cuts because he was so numb.

“You saved my life when we were tiny,” Michael reminded him, his palm shaking when he reached to cradle the younger boy’s face gently. Calum wasn’t shivering anymore, his ashen face cold against Michael’s skin as he leant into his best friend’s palm. “You were there for me when my parents died and I had no one else left in the world. You gave me hugs and you played with me when the other kids were scared of my storms, and you made me feel loved when I didn’t even want to exist.”

Calum’s chocolate brown eyes were shiny with tears as he leant closer, letting his forehead fall to rest on the older boy’s shoulder. A shaky breath escaped Calum when Michael reached to stroke his hair soothingly, his own eyes burning with tears as he pressed a firm kiss to his best friend’s curls.

“I don't wanna lose you, Princess,” the older boy confessed, hiding his words in Calum’s neck as he cuddled him close. “Please, _please_ don't take yourself away from me. I can't do this without you.”

“Mikey,” Calum breathed, tearful as he reached for the older boy’s face, smearing blood on his cheek. “Mikey, I’m sorry.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Cal,” Michael murmured as their foreheads came to rest gently together. “You saved me when I didn’t want to be saved and I’ll always be grateful for that.” The love in the older boy’s tone was plain as Calum leant more heavily against him, his bloodied fingers twisting in the older boy’s jacket. “Maybe now it’s my turn to save you.”

“Mike,” Calum repeated, weaker now as his grip loosened. “Mikey…”

His knees folded beneath him, his dark eyes sliding shut as he slumped suddenly, hitting the water with a splash. Michael’s heart felt like it had stopped beating as he plunged down after his best friend, wrapping his arms around Calum’s limp form as he heaved the younger boy back to the surface.

“Michael!” Laura cried, her tone saturated with panic as her boyfriend struggled closer, the icy water breaking around him as he dragged Calum towards the shore. She stepped into the shallows, her hands shaking at the cold as she reached to help Michael in lowering the younger boy down onto the stones, away from the water’s edge.

Michael crumpled the moment Calum was stretched out unconscious on the ground, his pale cheeks streaked with tears as Laura reached for the deeper cuts on the Prince’s wrists and thighs, working to seal them although that would do nothing to help with the blood loss.

Michael’s emerald eyes welled with tears as he gazed down at Calum’s vacant expression, his long eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks, his ashen complexion as he lay there slumped in the darkness. A sob tore out of Michael without his permission as he hunched down over his best friend, breathless with the pain of potentially losing someone _else_ he loved.

“Not you too,” Michael pleaded, his tone nothing short of heartbroken although his breath caught in his throat when Calum’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and blank, although they flickered wearily towards the older boy. “I’m not losing you too, Cal. I _can’t_.” Michael stroked Calum’s curls back from his forehead as Laura reached frantically for her comm, his bottom lip wobbling with suppressed emotions as he gazed down at the Prince. “You’re not losing me either, Princess, okay? Not ever.”

“You promise?” Calum whispered, his words little more than a breath as his head lolled to the side. Michael pressed a kiss to his cheek, his tears falling faster than ever as he shivered at the cold, his lips lingering against the younger boy’s cheek.

“I promise,” Michael said tearfully, cuddling the Prince closer as he tried to keep him warm. “Just hold on, Cal, okay? Hold on.”

“Mikey,” Laura murmured from nearby, her voice tight with stress as she held her boyfriend’s agonised gaze. “Mikey, I don’t know what else to do. I’ve healed the cuts but he’s lost so much blood and… and you’re both so _cold_.” Her voice wobbled as she fought against a sob, her blue eyes bright with tears as she smoothed her hair back anxiously. “We need to get you both to the citadel, _now_.”

Michael shuddered as his soaking clothes clung to him, his muscles aching as he knelt there over Calum, so drained that it was all he could do to keep from lying down beside his best friend on the beach. Laura bit her thumb so hard it went bloodless as she took in the bluish tinge to their lips, her hands trembling worse than ever as she clutched her comm uselessly in one hand.

“There’s nothing else I can do here,” she admitted tearfully, her words choked past the lump in her throat as she held Michael’s bleary gaze. “I don’t want to leave you down here alone but… but I don’t have the number of anyone up in the citadel who might be able to help. Mikey, did your comm survive the lake water?”

Michael grimaced as he reached fumblingly into his pocket, his face falling when the device dripped water, the screen unwaveringly dark. He shook his head slowly and Laura paled as she took in quite how cold Michael looked as he slumped over Calum’s limp form. The Prince had passed out now, his eyes stubbornly shut, his curls plastered to his skull as his shallow breaths ghosted in the cold air above him.

“I think I should call Ashton,” Laura realised, the inspiration striking her out of nowhere as Michael stiffened, his gaze dropping to Calum’s unconscious form nervously. “His fire abilities might be enough to keep you both warm while help arrives… and if I call him, he can warn the others too. That way, it won’t be too late.”

She was already bringing the comm to her ear when Michael nodded falteringly, his shivers slowing as the icy wind wrapped around him, sending him slumping down onto the ground beside Calum. He drifted in and out of awareness, more focused on Laura’s palm settling warm on his forehead or the way the breeze fluttered Calum’s curls as the older girl pleaded into the comm, clearly growing desperate now.

The clouds broke overhead and the moonlight shone down onto the rippling lakes of Effervo, making the water shine like liquid mercury. Michael’s heart beat irregularly in his chest, his exhaustion seeping through him as his head fell to rest in the curve of Calum’s neck.

Laura watched them both in silent dread as she waited for the others to come down from the citadel. They moved slowly through the darkness and, with every second that passed, she became more certain that she was about to lose Michael and Calum for good.

She could hear her friends’ frightened voices growing louder as they approached but Laura didn’t let herself relax until Ashton was beside her; exhausted and betrayed, and still all the way out here in the cold because he was the kindest, most forgiving person she’d ever met.

His panicked expression quickly rippled with grim determination as he sat down on the ground beside the two unconscious boys, setting a fireball burning in the air above them, sending out a wave of heat. His hazel eyes were glassy with tears as Sierra settled a protective palm on his shoulder and Laura knew without a doubt that it hadn’t been fair to ask Ashton to make this choice but… fuck, there was nothing else they could have done.

She knew the Crown Prince would never forgive himself if Calum died, even if he _did_ feel bitter and wounded, and for good reason. Even worse, Michael would have been treated as collateral damage and that was something Laura refused to accept.

“I’m sorry I asked this of you, Ashy,” she whispered, her apologetic words almost lost beneath the crackle of the flames as Luke knelt down in the darkness beside her. He pressed a kiss wordlessly to her shoulder and she slumped back against him in exhaustion when Ashton simply looked at her, his gaze hollow with weariness, his lips pressed together so tightly they were bloodless.

He turned away without replying and Laura’s eyes stung with tears as she squeezed her lids tightly shut, refusing to let them fall. The fire warmed her skin and she let out a quiet sigh when Niall limped to a stop nearby, closely followed by Mali and Ashley who were leading a number of guards down towards the water’s edge.

Ashton let his fire burn away to nothing when he saw that help had arrived and there was a moment of unease while they all waited for their eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. The guards recovered first as they were trained to do, rushing the boys inside on stretchers as their friends followed as quickly as they were able.

Laura and Luke hung back, supporting a weakened Niall who never should have left the citadel in the first place. At least they would be treated properly now and Laura let that thought calm her as she traipsed up the steep hill towards the warmth of the building. Her tears fell silently but Luke’s hand was warm in her own and she tried to focus on that small comfort as her heart threatened to crumble in her chest.

She’d done everything she could to keep the boys safe, and she trusted the Tenebran healers to do what they could to save the Prince and his best friend… and besides, at least the truth was out now. Maybe everyone could finally begin to heal.

That was all that mattered.

*

Ashton felt numb as he followed the guards back towards the medical bay. The atmosphere crackled with tension around them as his friends murmured anxiously behind him but the Crown Prince didn’t let himself look back at them. His head was too much of a mess right now, his screaming nerves in tatters as his exhausted brain struggled to catch up with the terrible events of the past day.

They were almost to the medical bay when Calum reached up feebly from the stretcher, his freezing bloodstained hand entwining with Ashton’s as the Crown Prince walked along grimly beside him. The unexpected contact made Ashton flinch in shock, his hazel gaze locked on Calum’s face as the Prince’s dark eyes fluttered shut once more. His grip didn’t loosen though and Ashton did nothing to pull away as Calum was lifted carefully onto a bed in the medical bay, his head lolling sideways onto the pillows.

The numerous cuts scattered over his wrists and thighs looked even worse under the harsh lighting, and Ashton’s heart ached in his chest as he sank down heavily into a chair beside Calum’s bed, his eyes slipping shut in exhaustion as several healers began to work frantically over the Prince.

Over on the next bed, Michael was already struggling to free himself from the warm blankets he’d been tucked under. His weary eyes scanned the room wildly for Calum and Laura hurried to soothe him, her arm slipping around her boyfriend’s shoulders as she climbed onto the bed beside him. The healer allowed it only grudgingly, mostly because the older girl’s comforting proximity calmed Michael enough that he was willing to accept the potion that had been prepared for him. The bubbling orange potion had multiple uses: it would warm him up, loosen his muscles, and reduce the anxiety currently burning through his system.

Michael became docile almost the moment it had passed his lips, slumping back against Laura’s side with a soft whimper as the stress of the night finally caught up with him. She pressed a soft kiss to his sandy hair as he curled up beside her, his emerald eyes sleepy and miserable as their friends congregated around his beside.

Even Mali and Ashley stayed beside Michael, although both girls looked towards Calum often as the healers worked over him. The blood transfusion had already begun and, once the deepest of his wounds had been healed, bandages had been applied to hide the rest from view. His wet clothes had been cut away and thick blankets had been draped over him but, after the length of time he’d spent submerged in the icy water, it had been necessary to apply heat packs to his body too, aiming to bring his core temperature back up to a reasonable level.

Calum looked frighteningly small beneath the blankets and Ashton couldn’t tear his horrified gaze away as he stared down at the younger boy bleakly. He was sure the others were anxious to check on Calum too but, for now at least, they left the two Princes alone and Ashton was grateful for that, albeit grudgingly.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to speak to any of them right now; not after the lies they’d kept from him ever since that terrifying night at Flos Bay. The hurt Ashton felt at being the last person to know the truth still burnt brightly but it was no longer blinding him. He was too tired for hatred or anguish; those emotions were heavy to carry and Ashton had had enough of them to last him a lifetime.

The longer he sat beside Calum’s bedside, the more he became aware of the fact that his attention had been focused in the wrong place. While it _had_ been wrong of his friends – and especially the Prince – to hide the truth from him, their hearts had undeniably been in the right place. Ashton knew that now and he didn’t need to be an empath to sense their guilt; he could see it shining in their tear-filled eyes whenever they caught his gaze.

None of them had wanted to hurt him… not even Calum, no matter what King David might have asked of his only son. The Tenebran Prince had had so many occasions to cause Ashton harm but never once had he acted nefariously. Calum had fallen in love with him instead.

Ashton didn’t realise he was crying until he felt the tears rolling down his cheeks and a heavy sigh escaped him as his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. He buried his head in his hands, shuddering a little at the dried blood on his palms – a mixture of Calum’s and his reflection’s after Ashton had torn himself apart in front of the entire planet.

A soft sob escaped him but his breath caught when he felt fingers combing timidly through his limp red curls. Ashton raised his head in surprise, his chest tightening with pain when he saw Calum watching him through heavily-lidded eyes, his skin still scarily pale against the white sheets as his trembling hand fell back down onto the blankets.

“Ash,” Calum rasped, his bottom lip wobbling as his glazed eyes flickered down towards his bandaged wrists. “Ash, I’m sorry.”

The healers had backed away now – apparently content that they’d done everything they could to ensure the Prince’s recovery – and, now that the curtains had been drawn shut around the younger boy’s bed, Ashton allowed his tired face to soften as he moved his chair a little closer. Calum watched him tiredly, his eyelids drooping after the warming potion he’d been given by one of the healers. He fought against the pull of the drugs though and Ashton couldn’t blame him; after the frightening events of tonight, a tiny part of him was afraid that if Calum closed his eyes now, they might not open again.

The Prince continued to watch Ashton silently, his breathing deep and even now, his lips chapped from the cold. His blond hair looked dark across his forehead and the older boy stroked it back unthinkingly, feeling a stab of pain when Calum’s eyes filled with hot tears. Ashton wanted to take the hurt away but he wasn’t sure it was possible anymore and he hated how inadequate he felt as he sat there frozen in the chair, his lips parting uselessly as he failed to find the words he needed to make things right.

“Don’t cry, curly,” Ashton said at last, his voice thick with tears as his thumb smoothed comfortingly over the younger boy’s cheekbone. “I’m right here.” He didn’t know what else to say but, for the moment at least, his words seemed to be enough. Calum leant into his palm, a shaky sigh escaping him as he lay there limply under the older boy’s gaze.

Calum was so fragile and it shook Ashton to the core as he gazed down at him. He had only ever seen the Prince as strong and stubborn, and the contrast to that now was painful. He’d had no idea the extent to which Calum had hollowed himself out and, more than anything, Ashton wished he’d noticed. He wished he’d paid better attention.

“I already told you I’m not letting you die, curly,” Ashton reminded him, his voice shaking as another tear rolled down his cheek. “Please don’t make me break that promise.”

A soft sound escaped Calum as he gazed up at the older boy – a relieved sob, maybe, although the pain in his eyes was unmistakable – but the exhaustion in the Prince’s eyes threatened to overwhelm him as his wounds ached beneath the bandages and whatever had been keeping him silent was gone now. He was too tired to fight anymore.

“Why are you here?” Calum breathed, the words soft enough that his voice wouldn’t have a chance to break. “You hate me.”

Ashton winced, his paling face falling as the shame and guilt rippled across his expression.

“I don’t hate you,” he promised, blinking back tears. “I could _never_ hate you, curly. I was just angry and… and hurt… and I guess I wanted to hurt you too.” Ashton hung his head, his expression saturated with humiliation and remorse. “I’m so sorry, Cal.”

“You’ve done nothing to apologise for,” Calum murmured, letting his tired eyes slip shut. “I’m the one who tore us apart.”

Ashton reached tentatively for the younger boy’s hand, entwining their fingers as he ducked his head to press a kiss to the Prince’s knuckles, neither confirming nor denying Calum’s statement.

“I’m still not letting you die, Cal,” he said softly, feeling painfully vulnerable under the bright lights. “Not on my watch.”

Ashton rose to leave when no reply was forthcoming, his expression troubled, but something kept him lingering inside the curtained off space. His heart pounded in his chest as he gripped the protection charm still hidden in his pocket, the chain tangled between his shaking fingers.

“I just didn’t want to lose you, angel,” Calum admitted drowsily, long after the older boy had turned away. “I don’t want to be without you now.”

When Ashton twisted back to face him – with a lump rising in his throat and tears in his eyes – Calum had passed out, finally succumbing to the potion in his bloodstream. His face remained troubled in sleep but a little of the colour had returned to his cheeks now and Ashton let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, his heart aching at the sight of the younger boy’s bandages.

After a moment of hesitation, Ashton removed the necklace from his pocket and slowly approached the bed. He lifted Calum’s head gently in his palm, slipping the protective charm around the younger boy’s neck where it nestled safely against his chest. Ashton smoothed the blankets over him afterwards, hiding the necklace from sight, and something calmed inside him when Calum’s breaths seemed to come a little easier.

“I don’t want to be without you either,” Ashton whispered, pressing his lips gently to the younger boy’s forehead like a promise. Calum’s frown faded and he let out a soft sigh as he nestled down under the blankets, his blond curls soft beneath the Crown Prince’s fingers.

No matter what happened between them, Ashton would make sure Calum recovered. He’d sworn to himself once that he wouldn’t give up until Calum had learnt to love himself and accept his emotions, and that promise still stood now. Ashton would do everything he could to heal the wounds on Calum’s heart, just as he would do his best to keep his own from scarring.

He would forgive because that was the only option left open to him now; it just might take a while to rebuild his trust again… but Ashton didn’t need to worry about that for the time being. For now, it was enough that his friends were safe and that the third task was over, no matter how brutal it had been.

All he needed to concern himself with tonight was washing the blood away and falling asleep.

Everything else could wait until morning.

*

Mali felt sick as she curled up in the chair beside her brother’s hospital bed.

Ashley had grudgingly left to attend an emergency debriefing meeting from her supervisor elsewhere in the citadel and, without her girlfriend present to distract her, Mali’s guilt built inside her like a storm. She was afraid that Ashley would get into trouble for allowing a situation where the Prince had been able to harm himself so badly but, mostly, Mali just wanted to break down in tears that Calum had fallen so far without her noticing.

Maybe the worst part was that it wasn’t even just Calum who had crumbled to dust around her. The rest of Mali’s world was falling apart too and her heart ached in her chest as she finally accepted this as fact, no matter how painful the realisation was.

Everything had come to a head that morning when her brother had shown up in her bedroom, tearful and bleeding as he fell apart in front of her. That day felt like a millions years ago now, despite how little time had actually passed, and Mali’s head spun as she replayed her conversation with Calum. She recalled the shock she’d felt at the knowledge of David wanting to do good and help his son in protecting Ashton, and the horrified disgust that had left her breathless when she’d learnt that their mother had been betraying them all along, both by using her own children as sacrificial pawns in the Purgatio’s flawed plans and by likely having an affair with Reg Princeps, an all-round traitor and terrorist.

Mali remembered the dismay she’d felt at the prospect of Joy hurting Calum – both physically and emotionally – as well as being the puppeteer of a terrorist organisation that had resulted in Ashley almost being killed. The sting of betrayal smarted even worse when she recalled the dread she’d felt upon learning that Michael was only an orphan because his kind-hearted parents had disagreed with Joy’s harsh world view.

The alarming knowledge Calum had bestowed upon her still left her reeling even now, no matter how many days passed. Mali’s brain simply refused to process it; refused to comprehend that her mother – her own _mother_ – could be the root of such terrible and widespread brutality. The sheer malice of the Queen’s actions left Mali petrified because they simply weren’t consistent with the stern but benevolent woman who had raised her.

Mali looked at Joy now and saw a woman she no longer recognised.

She saw a monster.

She was startled from her grim thoughts by the curtains parting suddenly around Calum's bed and she flinched violently as David appeared, her trembling hand rising to cover her racing heart as she exhaled shakily.

“You scared me,” she admitted with a humourless laugh, forcing herself to inhale deeply as the metal covering her fingertips in sharp protective claws slowly returned to the bracelets which had previously been adorning her wrists.

“I’m sorry,” David apologised, his voice heavy as his gaze flickered miserably between his two children. He sank down into the chair beside Mali with a weary sigh, a deep frown creasing his brow as he gave her drooping shoulder a brief squeeze with one gloved hand. “How are you feeling?”

“ _Me_?” Mali asked weakly, letting out a scoff as she wiped a tear irritably from her cheek. “What does that matter? Cal’s the one who’s hurt; not me.”

“You both matter equally,” David said firmly, his tone so steady and calm that she blinked at him in surprise before answering unthinkingly.

“I feel… guilty,” she admitted, her shoulders hunched as she wrapped her arms around herself uneasily. “Guilty, exhausted, and scared. That should cover it, I think.”

“Shall we break that down?” David asked softly, his tone just wry enough that it made her lips twitch into a watery smile. It reminded her of when she was a kid for a moment, struggling with a problem set by one of her tutors. She’d always gone to David for support and he’d always made her feel better; made her feel like she was good enough to trust her instincts and find the right answer to a problem.

On some abstract level now, Mali wondered if he’d be able to help her in achieving this feeling of serenity again.

“Okay,” she said, her tone hesitant but growing less so by the second. “I feel guilty because… because Calum hurt himself… and I should have been there to stop him. He’s my baby brother, no matter how old he gets. I’m supposed to take care of him.”

“He’s an adult,” David pointed out mildly, even as his expression rippled with pain when his tired gaze settled on Calum’s sleeping face, his complexion still worryingly pale beneath the blankets. “He was hurting and he made some… unfortunate decisions, and now we’re here to help him pick up the pieces. You shouldn’t hate yourself for that, darling.”

“I should have acted sooner,” Mali whispered, cringing a little when she felt the first tears boiling over. “I suspected something was wrong but… I didn’t act in time. I almost lost him.”

“Then I’m guilty too,” David said gently, rubbing his temples for a moment as the tension he could feel made his muscles ache. “The day I came to your room to apologise to you, Calum came to my study. He begged me to… to rethink my foolish plan. He told me how badly he was hurting and I wrongly assumed that it was just a clumsy attempt to make me see sense… but I realise now that it was a cry for help… a cry which I didn’t answer.”

Mali took his gloved hand silently, giving it a tight squeeze when she saw her father swallowing reflexively past the lump of tears rising in his throat. Their shared guilt pressed down on them like lead as Calum lay unconscious before them but it felt a little easier to breathe when Mali processed the fact that she wasn’t alone in her frightening feelings. Perhaps she never would be again.

“Where’s mum?” Mali asked quietly, breaking the silence that had fallen. “I thought she’d be here.”

“She’s been called away to address the press,” David said heavily, a muscle in his jaw twitching when his gaze settled on his son’s sleeping form. “Already there are rumours circulating about the nature of Calum’s injuries. Your mother is acting as damage control but she’ll be along later, I expect.” He tried for a weak smile which did nothing to hiding the sadness in his dark eyes. “Where’s Ashley?” he countered, lips twitching. “It’s rare to see you two out of each other’s company these days.”

“She’s in a meeting with her supervisor right now,” Mali said hesitantly, her expression rapidly growing troubled as she fiddled anxiously with a lock of her hair. “Dad…” Her voice trailed away and she bit her lip before awkwardly trying again: “Dad, will Ashley be in trouble for what Calum did? Because if she loses her job… well, it wouldn’t be fair. _I’m_ the one who’s always distracting her from her duties… and besides, I don’t think she could have stopped Cal anyway.” She broke off, fixing her brother with a fondly exasperated look as a tear rolled down her cheek. “He’s too stubborn.”

David sighed, remaining silent for just long enough that the Princess began to watch him in concern, her fingers twisting together nervously in her lap. The King caught her eye, his shoulders slumping a little as his gloved hand came to settle over his daughter’s.

“Ashley is a bodyguard; not a childminder,” he said at length. “If Calum was that determined to harm himself… well, I’m afraid he would have found a way no matter what, darling. Neither you nor Ashley nor even I should blame ourselves for not being able to stop him. We can only be here for him now. We can only help him in picking up the pieces.”

Mali dried her eyes with her sleeve, exhausted and emotional as she leant back tentatively against her father’s side. He stiffened in shock for a moment before his arm slipped warmly around her shoulders and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the fresh tears welling up.

“You’ve raised an interesting point there actually,” David said, trying to act as though he wasn’t incredibly shaken by the rare physical contact between them. “While I promise that Ashley’s job is safe, I think perhaps you’re right about distractions. It’s clear that you both feel very strongly for each other, and that’s naturally going to affect Ashley’s instincts and her ability to care for you both equally. I think it might be time to find Calum a bodyguard of his own.”

“Do you think mum will agree?” Mali asked uncertainly, her tone more wary than she’d intended as she remembered how upset Calum had been when he’d turned up at her door with bloody scratches decorating his cheek and panic building in his chest. Joy had hurt him that day – not just physically but emotionally too – and Mali felt sick as she remembered Calum’s terror when his sister had spied the blood on his wrist; blood from a cut he’d inflicted on himself because his own mother had set the anxiety burning like a forest fire in his veins.

“Why wouldn’t she?” David asked uncertainly as a frown grew on his face. “Your mother’s always wanted what’s best for her children.”

Mali shivered, her lips pressed together flatly as she glanced through a narrow gap in the curtains towards the dark medical bay beyond. Michael had already gone back to Laura’s room for the night and the healer on duty was in a side room somewhere, checking supplies. For the moment, they were relatively alone.

“There’s something I need to tell you, dad,” Mali said, speaking quickly before she could second-guess herself. The dread in her dark eyes was undeniable when she unwillingly met the King’s gaze, withering a little under his confused stare. “But… I don’t know how you’ll react.”

“Try me,” he suggested as he twisted in his chair to face her. His arm had slipped from around her shoulders and she felt cold without it.

“I’m scared,” she breathed, unable to help herself as her heart began to pound wildly in her chest. “Dad, if Calum and I discovered something terrible – something with the potential to ruin us – you’d want to be told, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” David said slowly, his expression rippling with concern. “It would be unfair for the two of you to have to deal with that alone.” He didn’t push her for more information, instead sitting there quietly as he waited for her to gather her thoughts, and that was what gave Mali the courage she needed to say her next words out loud.

“Mum’s betrayed us, dad,” she said softly, her voice a little choked past the angry tears rising inside her. “She’s involved with the Purgatio and she’s hurt Cal, and… and it looks like she’s been having an affair with Reg Princeps, dad.” He froze and she bit her lip hard enough that it stung as the blood drained from her father’s face. “I’m so sorry you had to find out like this,” she whispered, her hands shaking badly. “So, _so_ sorry. Calum told me before he… he…” She broke off with a sob, her heart aching in her chest at the pain on the King’s face. “This is awful, isn’t it? We’ll be ruined.”

David swallowed audibly past the lump in his throat and a tearful Mali threw caution to the wind, reaching to lace their trembling fingers together as her father looked away in a panic, his dark eyes just a little too wet. He took several deep breaths to calm himself and, after a long moment, felt able to meet her gaze once more.

“I wish I could say this came as a shock,” David said heavily, his expression grave. “But your mother has always been a little radical in her attitudes. I suspected in the past but… well, I hoped I was wrong. She never liked to talk about her political views and she was offended if I ever brought the topic up. She made me feel as though I was imagining her… inclinations… but now I can see that I was right all along. The Purgatio seem to be right up your mother’s street, especially back in her youth… so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that she would favour an unsavoury character like Princeps over her family.”

His dark eyes saddened as he processed his daughter’s words, his gaze flickering back once more towards Calum, where the deep scratches Joy had inflicted had only just begun to heal. Now that he knew she’d caused him harm, it was clear his son’s wounds had been caused by his wife’s metal-bending abilities and the nausea David could feel was mirrored in his daughter’s face as she slumped in the chair.

“There’s more,” Mali whispered, her heart breaking in her chest when she saw the light in David's eyes go dark. “From what Calum told me, it seems that mum was behind the Clifford assassination… and…” She faltered, struggling to find the strength she needed to carry on when the King looked so broken in front of her. “She wants Ashton dead, I think – anything to stay on Princeps’ good side – and… and that night outside the Caelum Assembly Building and again at Flos Bay… well, me and Calum have almost been killed, dad. I don’t think anything would stop her from helping the Purgatio achieve their cause.”

“Even at the cost of our children’s lives?!” David shook his head in disgust, looking horrified by the very thought. “Not on her life – I can promise you that, darling.” He inhaled shakily, flattening his greying hair with a trembling hand as he squared his jaw against the pain he could feel. Mali knew he must have been hurting a lot more than he was letting on but he’d always been a proud, stubborn man. It wasn’t in his nature to acknowledge his own agony, no matter how excruciating. “You’ve done the right thing by telling me. This is a delicate, dangerous situation and we’ll need to take care to run a thorough investigation before we act.”

“We?” Mali repeated, frowning as she brushed a tear away.

“Of course,” David said quietly, his brow creasing as he rubbed the back of his neck uneasily, looking decades older after their conversation. “You and Calum are adults, and it’s far past time I started treating you like that… and besides, Joy is your mother. This affects you too. We’ll need to keep each other close if we’re going to make it through this in one piece.”

“I’ve already tried to find out more from her, dad,” Mali confessed, flushing with embarrassment as her expression became downcast. “I tried to find out how closely she was working with the Purgatio and whether she was really having an affair but… she just wouldn’t speak to me. Whenever I tried to guide the conversation, she just… shut down.”

“She’s very adept at that,” David murmured, his dark eyes sad and tired. A heavy sigh escaped him as his face twisted with bitterness. “I truly can’t believe she’d put you and Calum at risk like this… and to think that this has been going on under my nose for _months_ is just…” He broke off, his face paler than ever under the bright lights as he struggled to calm himself. “It’s unbearable.”

Mali inhaled shakily, smoothing her hair down as she tried to keep her hands from shaking. She felt like she’d been wrung out, more drained and on edge than she’d ever been as David took in the fear burning in her eyes, his expression undeniably gentle.

“Don’t look so frightened, darling,” he said softly as a note of pleading entered his voice. “I’m proud of you for being brave enough to tell me the truth… and I’m sorry if I’ve ever given you cause to be afraid of approaching me in the first place.” She pressed her lips together flatly and he withered, disheartened but wholly unsurprised at the realisation that his own child had been so deeply afraid of him.

“I’m proud of you,” he repeated, his voice softer still as he blinked the dampness from his eyes. “Learning which battles you need to fight alone and which you need an army for shows great wisdom. That’s a skill which will benefit you greatly when you’re Queen.”

“That’s a nice thing to say,” Mali noted quietly, her voice thick with weariness as she leant back against him once more. “I wish I’d thought to speak to you about this before.”

“What’s done is done,” David murmured before his expression slowly became ashamed. “Besides, I’m not surprised you didn’t feel comfortable confiding in me.” His shook his head slowly as his gaze flickered between the Prince and Princess, his mouth tightening into something utterly miserable. “Growing up, I always swore I’d be nothing like my father… but I’ve made the same mistakes he did,” he admitted in little more than a whisper. “I raised you and Calum with fear instead of love, and now we’re all paying the price.”

“Dad –” Mali’s dark eyes were wet with tears in the second before David lowered his gaze, unable to look at her as the guilt burnt inside him.

“I wish there was something I could do to fix things,” he whispered, feeling pathetic the moment the words passed his lips. “I wish there was something I could do to truly _prove_ to you that I want to mend what’s been broken.”

“You’re listening to me now,” Mali pointed out as she held his gaze evenly. “That’s a good start, dad.” She offered him a watery smile which he weakly returned and her face softened fractionally. “You’ve listened to Calum too, haven’t you? He told me you agreed to help him keep Ashton safe. That means more to him than either of us can imagine, I’m sure.”

“If only I knew how to _help_ ,” David sighed, rubbing his temples with gloved fingers in a failed attempt to alleviate some of his stress. “After what you’ve told me of your mother’s links to the Purgatio… and when I think of the potentially devastating consequences of the final challenge… well, it seems I better get thinking quickly, doesn’t it? Your mother and I have dragged the family into this mess, after all. You and Calum should never have been implicated in the first place.”

Mali pursed her lips, fixing him with a hard look.

“I don’t think it’s fair that you need to solve all of these problems by yourself,” she said firmly. “All of us have caused our fair share of trouble over the years… and we’re supposed to be a _family_.” She sighed quietly, her tired face falling. “Maybe if we’d acted like one from the start, we could’ve avoided this.”

“I think perhaps you’re right,” David said heavily, although his face softened the longer he looked at her. She ducked her head shyly and he sighed, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip.

“What is it, dad?” the Princess asked uncertainly when her father remained silent. “What are you thinking?”

“I was just remembering something I said to Calum once,” David said after a long moment, hesitant and tired. “I told him once that he’d never been able to lie to me; that he was like his mother… and I suppose – when I took your metal powers into account – I always assumed you shared a lot in common with Joy too.” His lips twisted; became half-smile, half-grimace. “It just occurred to me that the pair of you aren’t particularly like _either_ of us, which you should count your lucky stars for.”

“We’re not?” Mali asked, frowning faintly. “Then who do we remind you of?”

David’s smile became sadder as his gaze settled on Calum’s sleeping face; his dark eyelashes fanned out over his cheekbones, his dyed curls tangled against the pillowcase.

“You and your brother are kind-hearted,” the King said at last, shaking his head slowly. “You both remind me so much of Thomas. He always felt so much more keenly than the rest of us. It was his most admirable trait but one that I used to be terrified of sharing all the same.”

“You do yourself a disservice,” Mali said softly, her eyes gentle. “I’m starting to think you wear your heart on your sleeve too, dad. You were just better at hiding it before… and I guess… well, maybe none of us took the time to look for it.” She shot him a weak smile as her tone turned teasing. “We just assumed you didn’t have one.”

“That’s harsh, darling,” he said, laying a hand over the heart in question. “But potentially not undeserved.”

“Potentially,” Mali repeated, scoffing weakly. David’s eyes crinkled into a tired smile which faded quickly as something occurred to him.

“I want us to be a proper family,” he said wistfully, his melancholy words taking her by surprise as she watched him uncertainly. “Tell me what I can do to start making things right between us. Tell me what I need to do to make you trust me again.”

“Why?” Mali didn’t mean for the word to slip out but she couldn’t help herself. Her mother had betrayed her so many times and she was afraid of another parent tearing the rug out from beneath her feet; the deception was more painful than she could stand. “Tell me why you care.”

“Because you and Calum are my children,” David said without pause, the determination blazing on his face. “You two are all I have left in the world and I want to do right by you. I want you both to feel safe with me, the way you should have done all along.”

“Fine,” Mali said quietly, a little breathless as a plan formed in her head. “I know what you can do to start fixing things.”

“Then tell me,” David said urgently, his dark eyes hopeful. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Alright,” the Princess agreed, her heart racing faster in her chest. “Take your gloves off, dad. Give us back the powers you sapped from us over the years.” His lips parted in shock as he stared at her, apparently not having expected this request, and Mali’s nails bit into her palms as her hands curled into fists. “Our magic never made you feel better,” she pointed out, taking care to keep her tone gentle. “You’ve been power-hungry ever since uncle Tommy died, when you thought stealing other people’s magic would fill the void he left behind… but it never did, dad. Hurting people won’t make you happy, least of all the people you’re supposed to love most.”

David sat there silently for what felt like a long time before he carefully removed his gloves, his hands trembling. He looked at her helplessly and Mali sighed softly, her heart aching.

“Calum first,” she murmured, just in case he changed his mind after feeling the initial loss of power. “He deserves it.”

David rose on shaky legs as he approached the bed, his bare fingertips settling shakily on the Prince’s temples. The King’s expression became a mixture of concentration and grief as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and after a moment he sagged, a weak sigh escaping him when he felt Mali’s hand clasping his shoulder, lending him silent strength.

Calum’s dark eyes fluttered at the rush of magic in his veins and the jug which had previously been placed innocuously on a table nearby toppled over as the water inside cascaded free, spilling across the tiled floor like a waterfall. Mali watched her brother fondly as he sank back into a deeper sleep, his expression less strained and more content now.

“Thank you, dad,” the Princess said gently, taking in the relief on her father’s face with gratitude. “You can give me mine back in a minute too. Just let me fetch some paper towels first. We don’t need anyone slipping over in all that water.”

“That’s servant’s work,” David said faintly, his tone flippant. Mali glared at him in response, her dark eyes flashing at his casual dismissal.

“ _No_ , dad,” she said sharply as she straightened up to her full height. “It’s time to get with the times. Tenebris will be left behind if we stay like this.”

David watched her in shock for a moment before he shook his head, apparently impressed that she’d had the courage to correct him.

“Point taken,” he agreed, lips twitching when she turned away to hide a smile. “You’ll be a most formidable ruler one day.”

Mali tried not to but she couldn’t help glowing a little.

“Yes, I will,” she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I really hope you enjoyed it and I can't wait to hear what you thought <3


	21. You And I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I really hope you'll enjoy this chapter and I'm excited to write the rest of the story!  
> I've been working a lot on my plan for the rest of this fic and I couldn't have done it without Laura (maluminspace) being the incredible best friend she is - I'd never get anything written without her encouragement and support <3  
> Thank you to everyone who's read this fic up until now and I really hope you'll enjoy the rest :)
> 
> Trigger warning for explicit sexual content, implied/referenced PTSD and anxiety, as well as non-graphic reference(s) to past suicide attempt/self-harm.

**_When my time comes around,_ **

**_Lay me gently in the cold dark earth._ **

**_No grave can hold my body down._ **

**_I'll crawl home to her._ **

_\- Work Song, Hozier_

 

Michael’s cherry-red lips curved into a warm smile as he crawled back up the bed towards Laura, his sandy hair in disarray, his brow damp with sweat. He let out a sigh of contentment when he slumped back down onto the mattress beside her and she giggled weakly as she waited for her pulse to calm in her veins.

“You’re insatiable, sparky,” Laura told him, aiming for a reproving tone and failing miserably when he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. She blushed when she realised she was still squeezing the blanket but her lips parted in surprise when she saw the daisies nestled inside her open palms. She hadn’t intended to grow them and she bit her lip when Michael noticed them, his pretty emerald eyes widening in wonder.

“That’s never happened before,” Laura murmured, embarrassed for a moment before she saw the broad smile stretching across his lips, equal parts smug and fond.

“I made you do that,” he grinned, cheeks flushed with blood as he drew her in for a kiss. “Guess I don’t _just_ have impressive electrical abilities, petal.”

“If you say you have magical sex powers, I’m breaking up with you,” Laura said instantly, her lie evident in the smile spreading across her face as she dropped the flowers onto the bedside table. “No one likes a show-off, sparky.”

“ _You_ like me,” he pointed out as he reached down to snag his t-shirt off the floor. He wriggled into it, leaving his hair messier than ever as a bashful smile touched his lips when Laura pointed in the general direction of his missing underwear.

“I love you,” she agreed, a little grudgingly. “But you make me blush too much. I don’t like it.” She paused, pretending to pout. “I’m also cold. That’s probably your fault somehow too.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Michael said sarcastically as he retrieved his jumper, bundling the navy blue material up into a loose ball and tossing it towards her. “You should put that on. Don’t want you freezing to death, petal.”

Laura winced as she wriggled into the garment, her face falling a little as her heart ached in her chest. She ducked her head, tucking a lock of long blonde hair behind her ear so that she could avoid her boyfriend’s gaze. Michael bit his lip, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as his smile faded. “That was too soon, wasn’t it? I keep thinking I’ll feel better about it if I make stupid jokes but… it’s not working. I don’t know why.”

“You both almost died, sparky,” Laura pointed out gently as her scarred hand rose to cradle the younger boy’s cheek. “Of course you’re going to feel shaken up about that. Plus, it was only two days ago so it would kind of be weirder if you _didn’t_ feel upset.”

Michael nodded morosely and Laura sighed, pressing a soft kiss to his full lips.

“At least you and Cal are both safe,” she said gently, letting her fingers wind gently through his sandy hair as a quiet hum escaped him. “That’s what matters most.”

He coaxed her in for a warm hug and, after a moment, drew her back down onto the mattress where they could lay tangled in each other’s arms. It felt safer like that and Laura closed her eyes as she tucked her head beneath his chin, breathing in the comforting smell of his skin. The pair of them were tactile enough on a good day but they were downright clingy now, wrapped around each other tightly as Michael pressed a soft kiss to her wavy hair.

“Things aren’t so bad really, are they?” Michael said softly, almost like he was trying to convince himself. “I have you here with me, and Cal and Mali feel like family again. Everyone hurt is healing and David might _finally_ be ready to fix things for empaths. It could be worse.”

“All of those positive things you just listed only happened because of you,” Laura reminded him gently, the pride in her eyes unmistakable. “You saved Niall and now there’s a chance that the treatment of empaths will improve across Cerasus. You saved Calum and gave him the chance to fix things with Ashton which, in future, might very well avoid another Boneflats War!” Her face softened when he ducked his head shyly and she pressed a lingering kiss to his blushing cheek, her thumb smoothing over his jaw soothingly.

“You’re changing the world, sparky,” she whispered, softest yet. “You’re my hero.”

“I don’t _feel_ like a hero,” he said quietly, his tone uncertain as he nestled closer across the crumpled sheets. He hid his flushed face in the soft folds of the jumper and Laura smiled faintly as she began to stroke his hair gently away from his forehead. “I still just feel like a stupid kid.”

“You’ve never been stupid,” she said firmly, her tone nothing but loving. “The press have talked shit about you over the years but none of it’s true. You’re the funniest, smartest, kindest person I’ve ever met. I forget the war even happened when I’m lying with you.”

“I still feel awful that you had to go through that,” Michael admitted, his expression downcast as he stroked the back of her neck gently with trembling fingertips. “If I’d been there too, maybe we would’ve –”

“No, Mikey,” Laura said quietly, her heart aching in her chest as her eyes stung with tears. “I’m glad you weren’t there. We’re on different sides! If we’d seen each other, we wouldn’t have had the chance to fall in love. We would’ve been expected to hurt each other instead and… and I couldn’t live with that.”

A fragile silence grew between them, broken only by the soft sound of Michael's palm smoothing over the back of the jumper Laura was wearing as she curled up against his chest.

“We’re on different sides,” he repeated, sadder now. “Is that how you feel, petal?”

“Of course not,” Laura reassured him as she met his gaze, her scarred palms settling warmly on his cheeks. “You’re one of the people who knows me best in this world, Mikey. You’re my best friend and you make me feel whole.” She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her eyes shining brighter with tears. “It doesn’t matter what our stupid politicians might think of the relationship between our two nations; not when I know how I feel about you and I.” A tear slipped free and Michael brushed it away, leaning close enough that their foreheads touched as they breathed the same air.

“You’re my other half, sparky,” Laura whispered, like she was sharing a secret. “I never want to be without you.”

“I never wanna be without you either,” Michael admitted, growing a little tearful now as his heart swelled with love in his chest. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

The magnitude of the moment stole the breath from Laura’s lungs as she lay there watching him, both of them sharing the same pillow, close enough that the tips of their noses brushed. Michael swallowed audibly, looking similarly overwhelmed, and Laura reached to comfort him unthinkingly, stroking his back gently through the thin t-shirt he’d pulled on to hide his pearly skin.

“Can I ask you something, petal?” he asked timidly, glancing up at her shyly through his golden eyelashes. Laura smiled faintly as she reached to cradle his jaw, the pad of her thumb smoothing gently over his full bottom lip. He kissed her there and she shivered, nodding mutely as a hint of colour rose in her cheeks.

“What do you want to do with your life?” he asked curiously, the question taking her by surprise as she fixed him with an inquisitive look. “Because I’d quite like to see where you end up.” His emerald eyes sparkled in the dim light as the sun rose behind the curtains and Laura sighed as she considered her answer.

“It’s not so clear-cut anymore,” she admitted after a pause, her lips twisting into something faintly unhappy. “Growing up, Luke and I always said we’d move out of Aureum together; find a little town somewhere in Claritas where I could be the main healer for the community. That seemed like something I’ve love to do but… I don’t know. It doesn’t seem so easy these days. Luke won’t want to leave now that he has Niall and… well, I don’t think I’d want to move away on my own.” She shrugged, swallowing in vain past the lump rising in her throat. “It’s just a shame. Imagining living that quiet, peaceful life was all that kept me going when I was on the Boneflats; this idea that all of the fighting was worth it if there was a light at the end of the tunnel… and now… now it seems that maybe there was nothing worth fighting for after all.”

“I don’t know about that,” Michael disagreed mildly, managing a faint smile as his heart raced in his chest. “I could do with a change of scenery, petal. You know Tenebris isn't my favourite place in the world.” Michael spoke as lightly as he could but he couldn’t hide the sincerity he felt when Laura’s eyes welled with grateful tears at his offer, proving to him once again that he’d given his heart to the right person.

Privately, Michael thought he’d follow her anywhere.

“You’d really do that for me?” she whispered as an unconscious smile spread across her lips. “You’d give up everything you know... for _me_?"

“I’d have you,” Michael said honestly, offering a crooked grin as his emerald eyes glittered brighter than ever. “That’s no sacrifice.”

“I think I was right,” Laura whispered as she rolled closer to kiss him, her palm settling gently on his waist where his t-shirt had rucked up, revealing a narrow sliver of pearly skin. “You really _are_ developing a hero complex.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael murmured, cheeks flushed pink when he caught her gaze. “Like it, do you?”

His eyes fluttered shut when he felt her lips trailing down his throat and she grinned now that he couldn’t see it.

“It’s very impressive,” she agreed easily as her fingertips stroked over his tummy, making him shiver as goosebumps rose on the sensitive skin. “Maybe I should find a way to reward you for it.”

He groaned softly when she ducked her head to kiss his stomach, his pupils blown as he propped himself up on the pillows, desperate not to miss a moment of this.

“Again?” he asked, smirking just a little when Laura tucked her hair behind her ears, pretending to consider it. “Really?”

“Maybe you’re not the _only_ one who’s insatiable,” she admitted, shrugging indifferently as she set about making him forget his own name. His fingers combed shakily through her hair as his pretty eyes fluttered shut, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

“Perhaps not,” he conceded.

*

The library was old and rarely used, its creaking shelves groaning under the weight of thousands of ancient dusty tomes. None of the books here were forbidden - _those_ were locked away in the King and Queen’s quarters behind thick metal doors - but there was something slightly ominous about being here alone all the same; something about the inky darkness clinging to the corners of the room, and the crackle and pop of the logs burning in the fireplace, casting flickering shadows across the floor.

One wall was made entirely of glass, overlooking a wildly overgrown rose garden in the grounds below, hidden away behind high stone walls. The garden had been tended to by Thomas once upon a time but, since his death, it had been allowed to grow into ruin. The dark red roses were wild and unkempt, and long thorny vines were doing their best to choke the life out of the plants. It was a dismal place, terrible in its beauty as the moon shone down overhead, painting Effervo silver and black.

Mali shivered as she turned her back on the dark grounds, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. It was cold in this part of the citadel and, even despite the thick jumper she’d slipped into over tights and a loose-fitting dress, she still felt the chill. Still, Ashley would be here soon - the moment she escaped from whatever dreadful meeting she’d been called to this time - and she’d always been good at distracting Mali from her discomfort. There was no reason tonight should be any different.

A familiar knock at the door sounded and she grinned as she sauntered over, smoothing the hem of her pretty patterned jumper, long hair falling loose around her shoulders. Ashley stood waiting for her on the other side, dressed in her usual black work uniform although she somehow managed to make even those plain clothes look effortlessly stylish as she stepped inside, pushing the door shut quickly.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Ashley said softly, her eyes twinkling in the shadows. “I come bearing alcohol.”

“Atta girl,” Mali murmured, her dark eyes falling shut when Ashley leant in to kiss her, one arm winding around the older girl’s shoulders. Her free hand was wrapped around a glass bottle and Mali huffed out of a laugh when Ashley accidentally knocked her in the ribs with it, pretending to grimace when the younger girl looked mortified. “You’re a terrible bodyguard,” the Princess lied, her eyes sparkling.

“I’m the worst,” Ashley agreed, lips curving into a crooked smile. “Can’t imagine why you keep me around.”

“No idea,” Mali said teasingly as she tangled their fingers, drawing her girlfriend down onto the rug in front of the fireplace. “I guess I just need someone around to laugh at my jokes.”

“Ah, if only you were funny,” Ashley said in a sorrowful tone, snickering with laughter when the Princess shot her a baleful look. The wine bottle rolled away across the rug when Mali tackled her and they were both giggling as Ashley sprawled there on her back, her hands falling to settle warmly on the older girl’s waist where Mali was straddling her thighs.

“So… what made you choose the library?” Ashley asked conversationally, clearly aiming for an innocent tone although it failed with every swipe of her thumbs beneath the hem of the older girl’s dress. “Bored of your chambers, are you?”

“Sure,” Mali agreed, ducking down to kiss the younger girl, her teeth gently grazing Ashley’s bottom lip. “Felt like revisiting our teenage years; wanted to see if the library was as romantic as I remembered.”

“Still romantic,” Ashley decided after a moment’s thought. “But dusty too. Dustier than I remembered.”

“You’ll need a shower after this,” Mali said fondly, smiling down at where her girlfriend was lying on the rug, at least until Ashley reached up and smeared a dusty hand over the older girl’s jumper.

“So will you now,” she said sweetly, eyes gleaming. “Maybe we should help each other out.” Her smile widened when the older girl seemed content to glare at her and Ashley blew her a kiss, equal parts affectionate and sarcastic. “Would some wine wipe that frown away, gorgeous? No? More for me then, I guess.”

“Oh, give it here,” Mali said heavily, adopting a grumpy tone that did nothing to hide the smile threatening to spread across her lips. She accepted the bottle with a slight smirk, taking a swig and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Sharing’s caring, right?”

“If you say so,” Ashley murmured, lips twitching as she leant forwards to kiss the older girl. “I won’t fight you for it, Princess. After that incredibly dull meeting, your company is more than enough.”

“Oh, really?” Mali asked softly, her tone just a touch more sympathetic. “It was that boring?”

“Unfortunately,” Ashley said, rolling her eyes. “Although Calum’s new bodyguard has been announced. Turns out it’s my friend Louis.”

“Huh. That was fast.” Mali frowned as she stroked Ashley's hair away from her pretty face, her curiosity evident when she cocked her head to the side. “What's Louis like?”

Ashley grinned, lips twitching as her hands returned to the older girl's thighs, palms warm through the thick tights.

“He's a bit of a smart arse,” the younger girl replied after a moment of thought. “Thinks he’s funnier than he is but somehow still manages to be hilarious. Calls me love a lot.”

“ _Love_ , huh?” Mali repeated, eyes flashing when Ashley shrugged, still smirking. “Should I be jealous?”

“You could be, Princess, but you’d be wasting your time,” the younger girl said easily. “Louis is very, _very_ gay… and so am I.”

Mali giggled, her hands falling to cover Ashley's as they entwined their fingers. They held each other's gazes and, after a moment, something softened in Mali's dark eyes.

“Is Louis good at his job, Ash?” she asked quietly, her voice small enough that Ashley gave her hands a reassuring squeeze, her smile warm in the firelight.

“He's very good, gorgeous,” Ashley said gently. “I've worked with him plenty of times before. He’ll keep Calum safe; that’s a promise.”

“Yeah?” Mali breathed, chocolate brown eyes soft as they reflected the flames. “You really mean it?”

“Course I do,” Ashley murmured, thumbs smoothing comfortingly over the older girl’s knuckles as she smiled up at her. “Can’t lie to my favourite Princess, can I?” A breathless giggle escaped Mali and she ducked her head, hair falling forwards to hide her blushing face although she squeaked in surprise when Ashley shifted her unexpectedly so that she could sit up too. Mali’s legs remained splayed across her bodyguard’s lap and Ashley’s face softened as she settled her hands on the older girl’s thighs, keeping her close.

“Who'd have thought I'd have the future Queen sitting in my lap?” Ashley teased gently, her eyes sparkling when Mali smiled down at her, blushing and softer than she ever allowed herself to appear in front of the rest of the world. “Fuck, gorgeous, I’m so proud of you.”

Mali hummed contentedly when the younger girl drew her into a kiss, her fingers sliding through the younger girl’s dark cropped hair. Ashley’s lips against her own felt so right and, for the first time since the frightening truth had come out, Mali felt calm once more. She didn’t need to think about Calum or David, or even Joy’s betrayal tonight; not when she was safe with Ashley like this, hidden away from the rest of the world.

“Mali,” Ashley breathed, her voice softer when she drew back to meet the older girl’s gaze, inhaling shakily as her fingertips smoothed over her girlfriend’s hips. “I love you.”

It was the first time she’d said those words since they’d given their relationship a second chance and Mali felt the relieved tears burning in her eyes when she cradled the younger girl’s jaw, her heart swelling golden in her chest as the love inside her overflowed because, finally – after so long of believing the contrary – she knew they were finally going to be okay.

“I love you too,” she promised, her words a little choked past the emotion building in her chest. A watery laugh escaped her as Ashley pressed a tearful kiss to her lips and Mali smiled blissfully, her arms wrapped warm and secure around the younger girl’s shoulders.

“You wanna be Queen with me?” she asked jokingly, her relief making her giddy as they sank down onto the rug together, both of them giggling as they clung to each other, lips trailing over skin and fingers tangled in hair.

“Yes,” Ashley whispered, almost too soft to hear. “More than anything.”

The adoration soaring through Mali then was enough to leave her breathless but she’d never minded anything less when she felt Ashley sucking a bruise into her throat, drawing a soft whimper from the Princess. Ashley was smiling against her skin – Mali could feel her girlfriend’s lips curving upwards, no matter how hard she tried to hide it – and, in that moment, she understood that things were right now, in a way they never had been before. This was how they should have been all along.

They were finally in the clear.

*

The days were getting shorter, the light fading earlier with every passing day as autumn crept by. The curtains were already drawn and the last hours of sunlight painted the blue walls a muted amber as Niall lay on the bed, his eyes fixed vacantly on the ceiling. He felt… heavy; felt his exhaustion and anxiety pinning him down like concrete as a soft sigh escaped him.

He’d had moments like this ever since that day by the lakes when the bullet had slammed into him; ever since he’d felt Michael’s terror and experienced the awful realisation that he might never see Luke again. It didn’t seem to matter that he’d survived or that David was seriously prepared to work on changing the legislation discriminating against empaths. Niall just felt small and scared now, like the rest of the world was trying to grind him into dust.

He felt the same way he had in the first few months after returning from the Boneflats. The panic followed him like a shadow wherever he went and he woke most nights from horrible dreams, his heart pounding in his chest as the terror burnt through him like acid. He thought he might have lost control completely if it wasn’t for Luke lying beside him in the darkness, teary and loving as he smoothed the older man’s hair back with trembling fingers, murmuring words of comfort.

Niall wasn’t sure he could live without Luke anymore, not that he’d ever tell him that. It was too much pressure for the younger boy and, if Luke wanted to leave him, Niall would let him, no matter how agonising that would inevitably be. He only wanted what was best for his boyfriend and, if it turned out that Niall _wasn’t_ the best for him – especially as broken as he was now – then he would let go.

After everything the younger boy had done for him, Niall owed him that much.

“Hey, sunshine,” Luke murmured, his words soft as he rolled closer across the mattress. His caramel-coloured curls fell artfully across his forehead, his pale brow creased into a faint frown at the anxiety on the older man’s face. “What’re you thinking?”

Niall shrugged awkwardly, wincing a little at the dull stab of pain he felt from the healing wound in his chest. Most of the time, he barely hurt at all anymore but if he moved wrong then it still ached sometimes, jarring him right back to that horrifying moment by the lakes.

“I just…” Niall swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, closing his eyes against the bright sunlight shining in from behind Luke. The younger boy reached for him silently, his fingers carding soothingly through his boyfriend’s hair as he pressed a chaste kiss to Niall’s forehead. “I just feel a bit lost at the moment, Lukey,” the older man managed eventually, his eyes glassy with tears. “That’s all.”

“You’re not lost,” Luke whispered, drawing him gently into his arms. “You’re right here.” Niall tucked his head beneath the younger boy’s chin, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and shame, and Luke pressed a soft kiss to his dark hair, only cuddling him closer. “I’m not losing you, okay, Ni?” he reminded him gently. “Not ever.”

Niall relaxed against him unconsciously as the knot of anxiety in his chest loosened. It was hard to remember to feel scared or miserable when the younger boy was holding him close like this and Niall had never been more grateful for Luke’s love than he was in that moment.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Luke promised when he felt a hint of the empath’s gratitude through their bond. “You’re my sunshine. I’d do anything for you.”

“That’s how I feel about you, darling,” Niall said quietly, drying his eyes with the back of one trembling hand. “I just want you to be happy, the way you deserve.” He sighed heavily, his expression downcast as he nestled closer to his boyfriend across the sheets. “That’s all I want for anyone.”

A soft sound escaped Luke – something that was almost pained – but his blue eyes were glitter-soft and shiny with tears when Niall raised his head to look at him in concern.

“The world’s been so cruel to you, Ni,” Luke whispered, sounding choked up as he stroked the older man's shoulders gently through his shirt. “Why are you still so kind?”

“Because…” Niall sighed, his lips twitching into a weak smile as he shook his head ruefully. “It’s nice to be nice to people, Lukey.”

“Even when you're sad?” the younger boy asked softly, his eyes wide.

“Especially then,” Niall said, leaning closer to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Because being nice to them might make them happy… and if you’re sad, you know how much happiness means.”

Luke’s fondness was tangible as he caught the older man’s lips in a gentle kiss, cradling Niall’s jaw like he was something precious. They parted naturally when it became necessary to breathe again, their mouths curved into smiles as Luke’s thumb smoothed soothingly over his boyfriend’s cheekbone.

“You’re so lovely, Ni,” he murmured, cheeks flushing a pretty pink. “I wish I could show you how much.”

If Niall hadn’t been paying attention, he might have missed the flash of embarrassment and lust Luke felt. As it was, a slight frown creased his brow as he cocked his head to the side curiously, catching the younger boy’s bashful gaze.

“Lukey?” Niall asked softly, his tone warm. “Wanna tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“Okay,” Luke mumbled, cheeks burning hotter as he ducked his head, kissing the underside of his boyfriend’s jaw. “Remember that day you went down on me in your kitchen?” he breathed, pressing his lips together hard against a whimper when the older man shifted purposefully closer, letting his thigh nudge against where Luke’s cock was hardening in his jeans.

“I remember,” Niall murmured, his lips brushing the younger boy’s jaw before he allowed his teeth to graze Luke’s earlobe. “Why’d you ask, darling? Want me to do it again?”

Luke moaned softly when he felt the older man undoing his jeans, aware that he was losing control of the situation but not minding in the slightest. This was supposed to be about making his boyfriend happy though and so, with immense willpower, he curled his fingers around Niall’s wrists, stilling him.

“I wanna do it to you,” Luke admitted, his words timid but sure, his pupils blown in his sparkling blue eyes. “Wanna teach me?”

Niall groaned, leaning to capture the younger boy’s lips in a hot kiss as their tongues stroked together. Luke pressed closer with a whine, his hands shaking as he reached to unbutton his boyfriend’s shirt, his cock hard against the Niall’s thigh. He spread his palms greedily over the older man’s ribs once he was shirtless, desperate for contact, but he sobered when his gaze settled on the bandage covering Niall’s bullet wound, his heart clenching in his chest.

“I’ll talk you through it, darling,” Niall reassured him, misunderstanding the way Luke’s face fell a little as he drew back. “Unless…” He hesitated, his concern growing. “If you’re not sure about it right now, Lukey, then we don’t have to –”

“Hush,” Luke said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the older man’s lips. “I really want to. I mean it.”

He nudged Niall gently down onto his back, taking care to avoid hurting him as the older man sank down onto the pillows. The empath looked small for a moment, shy and uncertain, and Luke’s face softened as he let his lips trail teasingly down his boyfriend’s throat, sucking kisses as he went.

“You’re so beautiful, Ni,” Luke breathed as he trailed his fingertips teasingly over the older man’s nipples. Niall arched into the contact with a soft moan, his pretty eyes fluttering shut when Luke ducked his head to suck on his nipple instead. He grazed his teeth over it gently and Niall whined, his cock leaking as he writhed on the crumpled sheets.

Luke glanced up towards him, keen to take in the flush of blood spreading down his boyfriend’s throat and the way his full lips parted as he moaned, but his gaze settled on the bandage once more and his heart ached. The hurt the older man had been subjected to was too painful to think about right now so Luke buried his thoughts as best he could, focusing on the way Niall’s leaking cock lay against the tensed muscles of his stomach instead.

“Thought you were gonna talk me through it,” Luke murmured teasingly as he ducked his head to suck a kiss to the older man’s thigh, his fingers curling hesitantly around Niall’s cock. “Thought you were gonna teach me, Ni.”

“I – I will, Lukey,” he promised, voice breaking when he felt the younger boy’s tongue sliding over the shaft. Niall let out a shaky groan, his eyes fluttering shut as his fingers twisted in the sheets at the sensation of Luke sucking lightly at the tip. “You’re doing a good job already, darling,” he added faintly, his words weak with lust, his chest heaving when the younger boy began to bob his head with growing confidence. “Feels amazing.”

It was all Luke could do to keep from smiling at the praise as his lips stretched around Niall’s thick cock, his tongue tracing the underside gently just to make his boyfriend squirm. The desperate noises pouring out of the older man were making Luke leak in his boxers and he groaned softly, the vibrations drawing a broken whine from Niall as the younger boy’s fist sped up, spreading pre-cum over the shaft.

Niall was trying so hard to keep his hips from rocking up into the wonderful heat of his boyfriend’s mouth and Luke just appreciated it a lot, his blue eyes teary with how much he was taking as his free hand slipped down to where Niall had undone his jeans. He palmed himself with something bordering on frantic, moaning around the older man’s cock as his hips jerked forward, his underwear damp with how much he was leaking.

Luke’s jaw was aching a little but he kept his mouth sliding on Niall’s cock, spurred on by the weak moans spilling from the empath as his muscles clenched, his blue eyes darkened with lust as he watched the younger boy helplessly. Niall whined when Luke met his gaze, his cheeks hollowed around his boyfriend’s hard cock as he pushed down just a fraction too far, his throat constricting as he fought against the cough building in his chest.

He was still jerking himself off, his wrist twisted at an awkward angle in his underwear as the tears began to collect in his glazed eyes. Niall looked a little worried even despite the lust saturating his expression, clearly concerned by the choking sounds escaping Luke as he took the older man’s cock into his throat.

“Lukey,” Niall moaned, his cheeks flushed with colour as he reached down shakily, presumably to push the younger boy away so that he could breathe again. “Darling, you don’t have to –” He broke off with a whine when he felt Luke’s tongue swirling, his throat fluttering around the shaft as his own cock swelled in his fist, his balls drawn up tight to his body.

Luke loved this so much; loved the feeling of Niall’s heavy leaking cock on his tongue in the same way he’d loved it when Niall had pushed his fingers into the younger boy’s mouth for Luke to suck on. It made him feel dirty and used in the best way possible, and a broken whine escaped Luke when Niall gently touched his face because… fuck. _Fuck_. Luke could feel **everything**.

All of the pleasure rocketing through the empath was suddenly shared between them and, with a startled moan, Luke climaxed. His orgasm took him by surprise, his hips jerking as he fucked his fist, filling his boxers with cum. His flushed cheeks were streaked with tears when Niall finally succeeded in pushing him back to breathe again but he forced himself to tighten his fist around the older man’s cock, stroking him swiftly until Niall came too, pretty eyes scrunching shut, mouth slack around the moans pouring out of him.

After a moment of stunned silence, Luke simply slumped down onto the mattress beside his boyfriend, both of them panting breathlessly as the younger boy tucked his face out of sight. He could feel the shame creeping up on him slowly as he fidgeted at the uncomfortable feeling of his wet boxers clinging to his skin and a shaky sigh escaped him when he caught the older man watching him with wide eyes.

“Fuck,” Luke gasped, his throat rasping at the abuse it had been subjected to as he covered his face with his hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“What?” Niall asked blankly, a frown creasing his brow. “Why?” He propped his head up in his palm, one elbow resting on the pillow as he looked down at his boyfriend uncertainly. It took him a moment to work out what was wrong but, when his gaze flickered down to the damp patch on the front of the younger boy’s boxers, a groan escaped him which – admittedly – did go some small way to making Luke feel better.

“Fuck, Lukey, you _came_?” Niall murmured, his darkened eyes slipping back to his boyfriend’s face as Luke watched him shyly. “That’s so hot, darling, I swear.” When a blush continued to heat the younger boy’s cheeks, Niall ducked down to kiss him, taking great delight in stroking his tongue into Luke’s mouth so that he could taste himself there. The younger boy moaned softly in response and Niall smiled against his lips. “You’re incredible, Lukey. My best boy.”

Luke’s relief was tangible when he stretched up to kiss his boyfriend back, his eyes falling shut as Niall’s fingers combed through his hair gently. They parted after a moment, both of them still a little breathless as Luke wrapped his arms gently around the older man’s neck, taking care not to jar his injury.

“I love you,” Luke whispered, his words scratchy now that his throat was sore. “So, _so_ much.”

“I love you too, darling,” Niall murmured, his thumb smoothing gently across the younger boy’s throat as his expression became focused while he reached for his magic. The ache faded and Luke’s eyes widened in surprise before he smiled, pressing a grateful kiss to his boyfriend’s blushing cheek.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ni,” he said softly, his eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine as the light filtered through the curtains, shining like rubies. “I’m so glad I have you in my life.” He softened at the vulnerable look in his boyfriend’s beautiful eyes, his tone warmer than ever as he captured Niall’s lips in a gentle kiss, palms cradling his cheeks. “I hope I get to keep you beside me forever, sunshine.”

“You will if I have anything to say about it, darling,” Niall promised him, blushing when his boyfriend reached to stroke his dark hair away where it was falling into his eyes. He stuck his tongue out when he saw the tears welling in the younger boy’s eyes and Luke laughed quietly, soft and melancholy as he watched his boyfriend tenderly.

“I’m not lonely anymore, Ni,” he whispered. “Are you?”

It took Niall a moment to realise what the younger boy was referencing but, when he did, his heart ached a little in his chest as he remembered the first night Luke had slept at his house: the tears and the scars, and the bumbling kiss which Niall would never regret for as long as he lived; not when it had brought someone as wonderful as Luke Hemmings into his life to banish the darkness.

“No,” Niall said softly, a little tearful as his lips curved into a fond smile. “I guess we were wrong, darling. You really _can’t_ be lonely together.” He laughed, shaking his head in awe as he took in the way Luke’s eyes seemed to glitter in the dying light. “I can't believe I got so lucky.”

“ _Lucky_?” Luke repeated as a frown grew on his face, his hand rising to cup the older man’s cheek “You still feel lucky after everything you’ve been through?”

“Sure I do,” Niall said softly, turning his head to press a kiss to the younger boy’s palm. “If I wasn’t lucky, darling, then I wouldn’t have you.”

Luke’s eyes sparkled at his boyfriend’s word and he cuddled him closer, tangling their legs together comfortingly over the crumpled sheets. Niall kissed him hot and slow, lingering there with his lips against Luke’s until he felt the younger boy smiling too widely to remain.

It was only when they both settled back down comfortably onto the pillows that Niall realised he wasn’t anxious anymore. All of the fear and sadness he’d previously felt had been washed away, and he wondered why it still surprised him that the younger boy had such a positive effect on him.

Lying there in the safety of Luke’s arms, Niall felt like he was finally home.

*

Calum found it difficult to believe that three days had passed already. Three days since the Geminae with its disturbing mirror challenge; three days since the truth had been spilt and Ashton had broken down at the betrayal; three days since the Prince had lost control by the lake and almost dragged Michael into oblivion with him.

The guilt burning inside Calum was constant and he felt consumed by it; felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside out as it set his nerves on fire, leaving him exhausted and on-edge.

He hadn’t been allowed to leave the medical bay until this morning, even though all of his cuts had been healed now; even the worst ones that had taken _hours_ to heal. Although no one had confirmed it, Calum knew he’d been kept there because they were afraid he’d try to hurt himself again. The knowledge filled him with shame and his dark eyes stung with tears as he gathered his things together from the curtained-off space that had been his prison for the last seventy two hours.

He could feel eyes on his back but, despite tensing, Calum didn’t turn around. He’d been avoiding his friends and family ever since he’d woken up, so mortified by the terror he’d put them through that everything else - even his wariness of his mother and his fear of the Purgatio - dulled by comparison.

His new bodyguard Louis would be starting work tomorrow too and Calum wasn’t sure he could stand the thought of meeting the man now; not when the only thing Louis would likely know about him was that he’d tried to kill himself several days before and was dangerously fragile.

He packed the last of his personal belongings away into the bag Mali had brought him earlier that morning with shaking hands but he still didn’t feel brave enough to turn around; to face the world and accept the fact that he’d almost tried to leave it forever. His shoulders hurt with how tense he was now, his frown deep enough that his head ached with it as the healing cuts on his wrists and thighs gave a phantom throb beneath the bandages.

“C’mon, curly,” Ashton prompted softly, his hazel eyes tired and sad when the younger boy finally plucked up the courage to meet his gaze. “I _know_ you didn’t message me to meet you here just so we could admire the medical bay together.” The forced smile slipped from his lips as he looked away, a quiet sigh escaping him. “I’d imagine you’re sick of it after the past few days.”

He hadn’t intended for his last words to escape and Ashton bit his lip when he saw Calum’s shoulders slumping, his face falling as he hefted the bag clumsily onto his shoulder. His movements were stiff and weary now, his jaw squared as he raked his fingers through his dyed blond curls, showing dark at the roots.

“You… you didn’t _have_ to come here,” Calum whispered, his eyelashes spiky with tears as he inhaled shakily. “I just… didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. If the others realised I was being discharged then…”

Ashton reached silently to take the younger boy’s bag, his expression daring him to argue.

“You’re allowed to be scared, Cal,” he said quietly when the Prince seemed content to simply watch him hopelessly. “But you shouldn’t shut them out. They _miss_ you and they’ve been so worried.”

Calum ducked his head, looking small in the hoodie he was wearing as he sidled towards the doorway, his bandaged arms wrapped loosely around himself. After a moment of hesitation, Ashton’s arm slipped slowly around the younger boy’s waist and, although neither of them mentioned it, Calum leant a little closer into the comforting warmth.

The Prince let out a relieved sigh once they’d left the medical bay behind, his expression more embarrassed than distressed now. His chocolate brown eyes were utterly miserable, his concern evident as he glanced down at Ashton guiltily.

“How’ve _you_ been, Ash?” Calum asked softly. “Were things with your parents okay after… after the end of the task?”

Ashton grimaced, pressing his lips together hard for a moment as the memory flashed before his eyes: the harsh white light and the throbbing of his knuckles, and his reflection’s blood splattering across the cracked glass as he destroyed it.

“It’s been kind of awkward,” Ashton said uneasily, huffing out a weak laugh at the understatement. “I only saw mum and dad once after the task but… it was very brief. They had to fly back home for an urgent council meeting.” His gaze fell to the flagstones beneath their feet as they walked along in silence, alone save for the guards patrolling the passages.

“Mum’s been calling me every day since it happened,” Ashton admitted, his voice softer. “I think she’s scared after what she saw… and I guess I can’t blame her.” It felt strange to be spilling his secrets to Calum so easily now, especially when he knew the younger boy hadn’t extended the same courtesy to him throughout the last year, but he tried not to let the bitterness show on his face; not when he was fighting so hard to understand _why_ the Prince had acted the way he had.

“You still haven’t told me how you are,” Calum whispered, his trembling hand falling to entwine timidly with the older boy’s. Ashton’s heart ached in his chest at the contact, his eyes stinging when he caught a glimpse of the chain hanging around Calum’s throat where the enchanted necklace was still hanging safely even now.

“I feel tired,” Ashton said, which was a lie and the truth, and an altogether poor explanation for the turmoil of emotions that had been building inside him since the day of the challenge. “I feel like I need for everything to just _stop_ for a while, so I can remember how to breathe again.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Calum whispered, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sure everything didn’t _use_ to feel so hard.”

The silence grew between them as they walked slowly through the passageway and Ashton sighed, hitching the bag higher onto his shoulder as he fixed the Prince with a sympathetic look.

“I know I said I’d just walk you back to your room,” he began awkwardly. “But… well, do you want me to stay for a while?” The younger boy’s eyes flickered to his face, his expression hopeful and mournful all at once, and Ashton hated how shaken and small Calum looked; hated that the distress the younger boy could feel was so painfully evident in his dark, tired eyes.

“We could watch a film or something maybe,” Ashton suggested hesitantly, aware that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he left the Prince alone when he was so obviously upset. “We can just relax ‘til you feel a bit better.”

“Okay,” Calum breathed, giving Ashton’s hand a faint squeeze as his eyes gleamed with tears. “If you’re sure.”

“Course I am, curly,” the older boy said softly, his heart aching in his chest. “If you need the company then I want to be there for you. That hasn’t changed.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Calum whispered, his eyes glassy with tears. Ashton sighed, shaking his head silently.

“No, you don’t,” he agreed quietly, thinking of the devastation he’d wrought upon his reflection and the way something important had crumbled in the Prince's face when Ashton had told him he hated him. “You deserve so much better.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, their hands brushing whenever they wandered too close to one another, their eyes stinging with tears. Ashton sat down awkwardly on the sofa when they finally reached the Prince’s bedroom, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he watched Calum standing alone in the middle of the room. His blond curls were in disarray, his hands trembling faintly as they tangled together in front of him.

“Why don’t you have a shower, Cal?” Ashton suggested gently. “Maybe changing into some clean clothes will help you feel better.”

Calum exhaled shakily, his lips pressing together when he glanced down towards the bandages wrapped around his wrists. He tore his gaze away after a long agonised moment, his exhausted eyes finding Ashton’s across the empty space between them.

“There’s something I need to do first,” Calum said, his jaw squaring with determination. “I’ll need your help.”

“Sure,” Ashton said, his palms spread in what would hopefully be seen as a calming gesture. “Whatever you need, Cal.”

“Okay,” the Prince said softly, undeniably grateful although his expression was tinged with embarrassment. “Thank you, Ash. I… I think I want to cut my hair.”

“Alright,” Ashton said with a shrug, deciding not to question it when Calum already felt so delicate. “Come to the bathroom then, yeah? Do you have an electric razor we can use? Because I could try using a disposable one but I think you might end up missing some scalp if you trust me with that.”

Calum let out a soft huff of surprised laughter, relaxing visibly as he extended a hand to help Ashton up from the sofa. His expression brightened when the older boy accepted it without hesitation.

“Thank you,” Calum repeated, his voice gentler than ever. “Thank you, Ash.”

“Don’t thank me too soon,” Ashton teased, his hazel eyes gleaming in the muted light. “You haven’t seen the result of my handiwork yet.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Calum said softly, letting his forehead fall to rest on the older boy's shoulder for the briefest of moments. “I’m still grateful.”

*

With every blond lock that fell to the tiles, a little more tension bled from Calum’s shoulders.

He sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor, his head bowed as Ashton carefully shaved his hair with the electric razor, being careful not to cut the younger boy’s skin. He left only the dark roots behind and Calum ran a shaking hand through his shorn locks when the older boy was done, his eyes widening at how exposed he felt without his curls.

Ashton watched him curiously as the Prince rose to gaze at his reflection in the mirror, surprised by how different the buzz cut made Calum look, especially now that the blond had been replaced with dark brown. He looked strange without the curls that Ashton had grown so used to; smaller but harder too… tougher than he’d ever had to be before.

Ashton reached out unthinkingly, letting his fingertips stroke gently over the younger boy’s cropped hair. Calum leant into it for a moment, his swollen tear-wet eyes falling shut before he flushed when he realised what he was doing, taking a clumsy step back.

“Sorry,” Ashton mumbled, cheeks flaming. “I wasn’t thinking. I’ll just wait for you outside, yeah? I didn’t mean to –”

“Wait.” Calum’s voice was small and scared, and his hand was shaking where it was wrapped delicately around the older boy’s wrist. “I… I need to do something else.”

“What is it?” Ashton breathed, his heart fluttering in his chest. He felt as though he should want to move away; maybe leave the room and give the younger boy some space but… he didn’t want to. Everything in him was screaming that this – right here – was where he needed to be… with Calum.

“I need to return something that belongs to you,” the Prince said softly, his expression earnest. “I… I never should have given you cause to part with it in the first place.” His hands were shaking as he reached under his shirt and Ashton’s heart ached in his chest when the younger boy withdrew the necklace, its little bottle of water swinging in the bright lights of the bathroom as he carefully removed it.

“May I?” Calum asked quietly, profferring it to the Crown Prince. Ashton hesitated for a moment before he nodded, stepping shyly closer as he bowed his head for the younger boy to place the chain gently around his neck. “Thank you,” Calum breathed, his hands settling on the older boy’s shoulders for a fleeting moment as he calmed himself with the contact. “Thank you for trusting me to keep you safe.”

A lump had risen in Ashton’s throat at those words and he swallowed past it with difficulty, his eyes stinging as he managed a watery smile that did nothing to brighten his melancholy expression.

“Go and shower, Cal,” he said weakly, drying his tears away with his sleeve. He needed the younger boy to leave before Ashton said something he regretted; something that might make him feel even _more_ vulnerable than he already did. “I’ll wait for you outside, curly… although… well, I guess I can’t call you that anymore, can I?”

Calum ran a hand ruefully over his newly-shorn hair, the dark strands spiky against his palm.

“I guess you’ll need to find a new nickname for me then,” he said, offering a slightly strained smile.

“Prickly doesn’t have quite the same ring to it,” Ashton mumbled, cheeks flushed a faint pink.

Calum smiled for a moment, his dark eyes gleaming faintly as he reached to tuck a crimson curl behind the older boy’s ear. Ashton flushed scarlet at the touch and Calum bit his lip as he drew back, embarrassed and confused. He was gone a moment later as he headed swiftly towards the shower, leaving a dazed Ashton to stumble back alone into the Prince’s bedroom.

He returned heavily to his earlier seat on the sofa, his hand trembling as he reached to touch the curl that Calum had tucked behind his ear. It felt strange to have so much tension between them now, when before there had been nothing separating them at all. Still, all hope was not lost and Ashton comforted himself with that as he relished the familiar weight of the pendant hanging once more around his neck.

At least they were still together now and Calum was safe again.

At least Ashton hadn’t lost him.

He curled up on the sofa as he waited for the younger boy to finish showering, wrapping an arm around his knees as he rested his cheek on the cushions. It was cosy and peaceful, and he was more tired than he’d realised, and soon enough he dropped off, eyes falling shut to the sound of the hot water beating against the tiles, content in the knowledge that Calum was exactly where he was meant to be.

*

Ashton woke to the shift of the sofa beneath him as Calum sank down onto the cushions nearby. The Prince cringed guiltily when he noticed that the older boy’s eyes had fluttered open but he relaxed when Ashton offered him a faint smile, too tired to be awkward or stand-offish.

“Feel better?” the older boy asked sleepily, his hazel eyes drooping as he shifted a little closer, laying his head timidly on the younger boy’s shoulder. Calum stiffened for a moment before his arm slipped hesitantly around the older boy, both of their hearts racing in their chests when the Prince dropped a kiss onto Ashton’s scarlet curls.

“Much, thanks to you,” Calum murmured, looking small in the hoodie he was bundled up in as he snuggled a little closer to the older boy. Ashton seemed to appreciate the contact and the Prince tried to focus on that, instead of the crippling guilt he could feel whenever he saw the exhaustion and pain prematurely lining the Crown Prince’s handsome face.

“Cal,” Ashton said softly, his hand trembling a little as it came to rest tentatively on the younger boy’s chest. “Calum, I -”

His comm chimed in his pocket and the older boy grimaced, reaching to ease it out of his jeans as the Prince slumped back against the sofa with a sigh, his pulse racing in his veins. Ashton bit his lip when he saw who was calling him, taking a deep breath before he answered and raised the comm to his ear.

“Hi, mum,” he said, struggling to inject a note of enthusiasm into his voice although he didn’t particularly succeed. “How are you and dad?” He smoothed his hair back tiredly as he listened, his eyes falling shut when Calum rubbed his shoulder soothingly with the pad of his thumb. “Oh, me? I’m fine, mum. I promise I’m just tired - your call woke me up; that’s all.”

Calum couldn’t hear Anne’s words over the line - just a faint buzz as the Claritan Queen asked after her son’s wellbeing - but he realised she must have mentioned him when Ashton tensed suddenly, his eyes flickering unwillingly to the Prince lounging on the sofa beside him.

“Oh,” Ashton said awkwardly, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “Yeah, mum. Calum got hurt but… but it was an accident… and he’s doing much better now.” He smiled faintly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment past the sheen of tears welling up. “Of course I’ll wish him well for you.”

Calum tensed as he listened, taking in the frown growing on the older boy’s forehead and the tight set of his jaw as he gritted his teeth. He seemed to be struggling with something and Calum tensed as he waited for the Crown Prince to tell his mother of the betrayal, certain that it would be nothing more than he deserved.

Ashton never did though. He simply nestled closer into the younger boy’s side instead, his cheek falling to rest on Calum’s shoulder as he cradled the comm to his ear, speaking quietly of other things.

After what felt like a long time, Calum gradually began to calm. He smoothed the older boy’s curls back gently, letting his fingers comb through the scarlet curls as Ashton’s voice became slower, heavy with sleep and peacefulness.

“Yeah, Cal’s here with me now,” the Crown Prince said softly, his tone warm. He laughed suddenly, the sound bright and sparkling, and Calum’s heart swelled in his chest when Ashton glanced towards him, his hazel eyes undeniably affectionate. “Mum would like to know when you’re going to give me my first swimming lesson,” he said, sniggering at whatever Anne said in response to her son’s slightly sarcastic tone.

Calum’s chocolate brown eyes crinkled with fondness for a moment before the shame welled up and he shrugged, biting unhappily on his bottom lip.

“I’ll teach you as soon as my bandages come off,” he said quietly, face falling. “In a week or so, yeah? I promise.”

“Okay,” Ashton breathed, his expression solemn now as he squeezed the younger boy’s hand gently. “Thank you, Cal.”

The call ended quickly after that, and Ashton’s eyes were soft and sad when he shifted to meet the Prince’s gaze. Calum looked small as he huddled up in his hoodie but his dark eyes widened with shock when the older boy carefully rolled the sleeves back so that his bandages were exposed.

He leant down to press a kiss to each bandaged wrist, kindly ignoring the ragged gasp that escaped the younger boy as his heart clenched painfully in his chest. Ashton’s hazel eyes were warm and kind when he raised his head once more, and Calum might have cried if he’d had the energy.

“It’s not my wrists that hurt,” he said instead, his terrible joke sending his eyes prickling with tears as the older boy let out a watery laugh, their foreheads falling to rest gently together.

“Well, I can’t kiss your thighs here, Cal,” Ashton teased softly, his eyelashes spiky with tears. “Anyone might walk in.”

The nostalgia they felt in that moment was almost suffocating, only encouraging them to hold each other tighter as the tears in their eyes finally boiled over. Ashton was shaking as he wrapped Calum tightly in his arms and the younger boy clung to him like ivy, tucking his face away into the older boy’s neck as the Crown Prince stroked his shorn hair soothingly.

Calum let out a soft sob as he cuddled Ashton tighter and, in that moment, they both knew that they couldn’t give up on their relationship. Even if the trust between them _was_ breaking, it hadn’t broken completely, which meant that they still had a chance to fix this.

Maybe that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'm so excited to post the rest of the story for you all to read :)  
> I'd love to hear what you thought ❤


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